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A ROMANCE 


OF 


AMERICAN SOCIETY 


“ It is a high merit with Mrs. Moore that she seeks her subjects 
in every-day life, instead of dealing in the visionary regions«of 
inflated romance. * * * * * * 

It would be difficult, perhaps impossible, for a man to anatormze 
the female heart as she has done. * * * Her suc- 

cess is the more distinguished because authorship with her is an 
amusement and not a profession. * * * * * 

We trust that she will eventually find time for the composition 
of some more elaborate fiction than the short fugitive stories with 
which she has hitherto graced our literature ; and with her wide 
observation of the female heart, and her skill in managing incidents, 
she cannot but succeed if she makes the attempt. Most of her 
writings have been published under the nom de plum,e of Clara 
Moreton.” — From “Hart’s Female Prose Writers oj America.” 


ON 


DANGEROUS GROUND; 


OR. 


AGATHA’S FRIENDSHIP 


1 I 

I i 


Uutmtuce of J^riety. 

r 

/i. _ > . ' 

*■' v e / 




BY 


-4 Mrs. BLOOMFIELD H. MOORE. 




*ca 


v / 

\ 


* 




u It is from the great book of Nature, the same through a thousand editions, 
whether Gof black-letter or wire^ove and hot-pressed, that I have venturously 


whether^of black-letter or wire^ove ar 
.^essayed to reat^a chapter to th^public.” 





^PHILADELPHIA: 

* PORTER ANiy COAT E'S, 

/ S No. 822 Chestnut Street. 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by 
PORTER & COATES, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


HENRY B. ASHMEAD, 
Printer. 


PART I. 


1 You have no sin, nor any conception of what it is ; and 
therefore you are so terribly severe ! As a saint you are not 
amiss ; but as a human creature, and a woman among earthly 
men and women, you need a sin to soften you/ 


Hawthorne. 



CHAPTER I. 


It had been the desire of Agatha’s life to have a 
Platonic friendship. She did not enjoy flirting ; all 
lovers she declared were bores,? and now she was fast 
verging towards the sisterhood of spinsters without hav- 
ing formed that friendship in which she felt herself 
capable of sustaining her part ; for all her friends had a 
proclivity for turning into lovers. 

More than once had she fancied that she had found 
her ideal, but each time scarcely had she given herself 
up to the full enjoyment of the companionship before 
the friendship straightway flamed up into love and left 
her nothing but ashes. Not that Agatha had any objec- 
tions to marrying, provided she was found by the one 
whom Heaven had ordained for her; but until the gods 
should send to her her mate, she ardently longed for the 
intense devoted friendship of a man. 

Agatha was no beauty, but there was so much soul 
in her face, that many found her wonderfully attractive. 
She had a clear dead -white skin; soft brown eyes; a 
straight, well cut nose, and full lips, as red as barberries. 
When she loosened the bands of her abundant hair it 
fell in dark waves to her knees, rippling over her white 
forehead in the short tresses that we see in portraits 
painted nearly a century ago. She had a weakness for 
copying portions of the dress as in these same portraits, 


4 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


and often wore soft frills around her throat and wrists, 
which gave her a quaint look, although they were exces- 
sively becoming. 

In her manners she was perfectly natural, as free 
from vanity as affectation, and so independent and given 
to a free expression of her thoughts and feelings, that 
neither her relatives nor her teachers had ever been able 
to school her into the reticence which they considered 
desirable. Her original ideas, and her outspoken utter- 
ance of them, had occasioned her father a great deal ot 
anxiety concerning her when she was but a child in 
years (her mother had died when she was an infant); but as 
she developed into womanhood she had glided into those 
grooves of society, the restraints of which she had re- 
belled against when younger, and accepted as a fact that 
such grooves were necessary to its maintenance in order 
and propriety. 

Charming as was their city home in New York, their 
seaside villa at Newport possessed for Agatha many more 
attractions. At this villa were gathered one autumn 
month of a year which shall be nameless, as blithe a 
party as its" walls had ever held. So merrily had passed 
the days in excursions of various kinds, in riding and 
driving and boating, in games on the lawn, when the 
weather was fine ; and within doors, when the skies were 
lowering, or the rain came down. So charmingly had 
the evenings flown on wings of song or dance, and the 
endless flow of conversation with which the young are 
gifted, that when the last evening came, the group was 
anything but a merry one that, clad in warm wrappings 
of various kinds, gathered on the broad piazza to enjoy 
the unusual mildness of the moonlight night. They were 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


5 


all under the shadow of the near separation ; and when a 
walk upon the cliffs was proposed, it was a relief to 
Agatha to see them stroll off together, falling into pairs 
as accident or inclination led ; while she, pleading some 
excuse for not accompanying them, sat down when they 
were out of sight in a corner of the piazza which com- 
manded a view of the ocean, entirely unconscious that 
she was not quite alone, until the sound of voices 
reached her from another corner, just where the shadows 
fell the darkest She had scarcely made this discovery 
before another figure appeared in sight, that of a man, 
who, avoiding the winding gravelled walk, struck a path 
across the lawn, and greeting her with some familiarity 
as he approached, drew up another chair, and sat down 
beside her. He was their nearest neighbour, Colonel 
Potten ; a widower whom Agatha had once liked, but 
fancying that his frequent visits of late were made with 
matrimonial speculations, she felt her heart hardening 
towards him. As he sat now, caressing his raven black 
moustache with a hand as soft and white as a woman’s, 
not so deeply engrossed in conversation as to prevent a 
furtive glance cast down now and then upon its white- 
ness, Agatha felt sure that in his own estimation he was 
irresistible and resolved that she would show him he 
was not. 

* I hear that your guests all leave in the morning/ he 
said. 

‘Yes, they all leave in the morning/ she answered 
coldly. 

‘ You will be quite lonely I fear — hope, I should say, 
as then I could claim the neighbourly privilege of drop- 
ping in often to look after you.’ Her face was in shadow, 


6 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


or the cold look in her eyes would have deterred him 
from taking the sentimental attitude he now assumed, 
leaning towards her, as he continued, 

4 I hope my visits are not unwelcome.’ 

‘ Other guests arrive the day after,’ said Agatha, not 
noticing his last remark. 

Colonel Potten twisted his moustache, as he had a 
trick of doing whenever he was annoyed. 4 Is it possible ? 
I knew that you were to remain until Christmas, but I 
thought it was too late in the season to tempt anyone 
from the town to the country. Why, November will 
soon be here.’ 

4 Possibly, our guests are coming to us more for the 
sake of companionship, than from any advantages which 
the country possesses,’ she replied. 

4 1 daresay,’ answered the Colonel, chewing at his 
moustache. 

4 Although, for my part,’ continued Agatha, 4 1 think 
November the most charming month of autumn, with 
its delicious Indian summer days, and its cheery even- 
ings, when one enjoys so thoroughly the blazing warmth 
of the open fires through the house.’ 

4 1 daresay,’ answered the Colonel, utterly uncon- 
scious that he was echoing his last words. 

At this moment, Agatha’s attention became riveted 
upon the two in the dark corner ; not dark enough, how- 
ever, to prevent her from perceiving how intense was the 
flirtation that was being carried on. More than once, 
Agatha had seen the man press passionately to his lips 
the long yellow curls of hair that streamed down from 
under one side of the burnous which enveloped the head 
of his companion. 

4 What an idiot!’ she exclaimed. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


7 


‘Which is the idiot ?’ asked Colonel Potten, glancing 
at the two in the corner. 

‘ Any man who kisses a woman’s hair in these days 
of chignons is an idiot/ answered Agatha. ‘ Do you 
know who they are ?’ 

‘ I think the man is your cousin : Frank Mortimer.’ 

‘ Is Frank so silly? Of course he is making love to 
the little Hunter. They are well matched for a flirta- 
tion.’ 

‘ You have not your usual discernment to-night, Miss 
Lee. Those blonde tresses are from no chignon, but the 
veritable property of Mrs. Arthur Grey.’ 

‘ Good heavens ! I had no idea — really, I thought 
better of both of them,’ ejaculated Agatha, confused 
and agitated She wished that she had not drawn 
Colonel Potten’s attention to them. ‘ How could I dream 
the woman was married ?’ she asked herself, 

‘Your shocked expression is quite refreshing. I had 
no idea that you were so behind the times/ said Colonel 
Potten. 

Agatha replied in her most freezing tones, 

‘ I hope I shall always be behind the times, if being 
shocked by my cousin’s impertinence and want of prin- 
ciple in making love to a married woman is an index of 
it. But of course Mrs. Grey is not to blame for his 
nonsense. You observe that her face is turned in such a 
way that she cannot see what an idiot he is making of 
himself.’ 

‘ Oh ! of course not/ answered the Colonel, but the 
low, derisive laugh that followed, denied the assent which 
he had given ; and Agatha annoyed by it, would have 
annihilated him if a look could have done it. 

‘ Men are always unjust to women/ she said, ‘ always 


8 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


ready to put the very worst construction upon what they 
see/ 

‘ As much so, do you think, as women are upon each 
other?’ he asked, with provoking coolness. ‘I think 
women are far more unjust to each other than men are 
to them ; and I believe my opinion coincides with that 
of the world in general. Was it Abraham or Sarah who 
sent the forlorn Hagar into the desert with her child ?’ 

* Your parallel cases, Colonel Potten, remind me of 
the lines, 

If the man who turnips cries 
Cries not when his father dies, 

Tis a proof that he would rather 
Have a turnip than his father. 


* I am glad to learn that I remind you of anything so 
amusing. I would prefer to be thought of by you in 
such connection even, than not to be thought of at all ; * 
replied Colonel Potten gallantly, but he pulled at his 
moustache, nevertheless, as though he did not quite 
relish the association. 

Without deigning any remark to this last observa- 
tion, Agatha returned to her first proposition. 

* Yes, from Adam down to the present time men are 
all unjust to women. It is their rightful inheritance I 
daresay, with original sin, “ total depravity,” and all the 
other birthrights ccllhmon to human nature. One thing 
is encouraging however, for, notwithstanding all they 
have had to contend with, the man of to-day is a most 
decided improvement upon Adam. Do you not agree 
with me ?’ 

( Not having had the pleasure of a personal acquaint- 
ance with that estimable individual, and biblical history 
being so very concise in his biography, I am not able to 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


S 

form an opinion/ answered the Colonel, in his most com 
placent tones. * Still, if you refer to any quality of the 
mind, such as bravery, for instance, I do think that with 
the Eve of my choice to cherish and protect, I would 
have made a stand in Paradise with her if I had died 
for it/ 

The Colonel had fought with some distinction in the 
war between the North and the South. 

‘ Who would have dreamed of finding a second Lucifer 
in our brave Colonel ! * exclaimed Agatha. 

‘ I think it would be enough to make a demon of any 
man to turn him adrift homeless with such a divine piece 
of flesh and blood as Dore represents Eve to have been, 
and all for a miserable apple.’ 

* But the fruit was forbidden.’ 

* Which made it all the more desirable.’ 

‘ So long as one is left free to choose, one ought* not 
to shirk the penalty if one makes choice of the road of 
self-gratification instead of self-denial,’ answered Agatha. 
‘ It is only the child who cries for the cake and the 
penny, too,’ she continued. * For my part I never could 
get up any indignation against either Adam or Eve for 
tasting the fruit, although it was forbidden, but I was 
always incensed at his outrageous want of manliness in 
saying, “ The woman tempted me, and I did eat.” Why, 
there is not a schoolboy in his teens at the present day 
who would have told of his chum, to say nothing if the 
apple had been given him by a little girl and that is why 
I say that the men of the present day are an improve- 
ment upon Adam.’ 

‘ Very true/ laughed the Colonel. ‘ I wonder I never 
saw it in that light before. It rather shakes my faith in 
Adam. A man who would be so dishonourable as to 


lO 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


tell would have been none too good to have invented the 
story. Perhaps, after all, Eve never made the suggestion 
to him.’ 

‘ That has always been my theory/ replied Agatha. 

At this instant she made an exclamation, which 
caused Colonel Potten to ask her if she had seen a ghost. 
She did indeed look startled, sitting as if struck dumb, 
her eyes fixed upon the two in the comer. Her sudden 
ejaculation seemed also to have startled them, for they 
arose and approached her. 

* May I inquire what has been the subject of this ani- 
mated discussion ? ’ said Mortimer. 

‘ Is that a fair question ? ’ asked Colonel Potten. 

4 The question is fair enough. It remains to be seen 
whether the answer will be equally fair.’ 

4 We have not been confining ourselves to one topic/ 
replied the Colonel. The last matter under discussion 
was whether “ the man who kisses and tells ” is worthy 
of credence. Your cousin thinks he would be none too 
good to make up the story if he told it. Now, in return, 
allow me to ask what topic has so absorbed you in your 
secluded corner ? ’ 

Agatha longed to add, ‘ that you have been so re- 
gardless of the moonlight, of us, and of appearances ; * 
but she said nothing. Mrs. Grey shook back her long 
blonde curls, and answered with an air of bewitching 
artlessness, 

4 1 am afraid you would not believe us if we told you. 
Come, Mr. Mortimer, I feel like taking a stroll on the 
cliffs in the moonlight. What do you say ? ’ 

Mr. Mortimer seemed to have lost his usual readiness 
of repartee, for he only answered, ‘With pleasure’ as 
they walked off together. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


11 


‘The woman is always the readier in an emer- 
gency,’ said Colonel Potten, ‘ but when your cousin is 
ten years older he will wear his honours more unblush- 
ingly.’ 

‘ His disgraces, you mean,’ answered Agatha, throw- 
ing into her voice the scorn that she felt. ‘ Did you ever 
see such a woman ? but I am quite forgetting that she is 
my father’s guest.’ 

‘Did I ever see such a woman ? Scores of them. 
You must be quite a child, Miss Lee. This is what 
the German School of Novels is developing in society. 
Either under the name of “ Platonic friendship,” 
“affinities,” or “free-love” — it is all the same — this is 
what it ends in.’ 

‘ No ! no ! ’ exclaimed Agatha, ‘ do not abuse Platonic 
friendship to me. I am a firm believer in it. Men 
always confuse it with love. Mrs. Grey’s conduct does 
not shake my firm faith in Platonic friendship any more 
than a piece of spurious coin palmed off upon me would 
take away my faith in the existence of sterling gold. She 
is always talking of her friendships, I know ; but such a 
woman is incapable of true friendship. As for “ free- 
love,” that is too revolting to find advocates among 
people of any refinement ; but you must believe in 
affinities, Colonel Potten.’ Agatha had spoken with 
earnestness, and in equally earnest tones Colonel Potten 
replied, 

‘ I believe in the devil.’ 

‘ What do you mean ? What connection can there 
be between the two that you should so associate them ? ’ 
asked Agatha. 

‘ Why simply this, that there is more or less of the 
devil in all affinities.’ 


12 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


* Shall I never meet a man who thinks as I do ?’ said 
Agatha vehemently. 

‘ Would to God I were that one,’ replied the Colonel, 
and now there was deep feeling in his tones. 4 More 
than ever do I wish that I were worthy of the hope 
which has been kindled in my heart. I will not venture 
to disclose to you what that hope is; but promise 'me 
that there may be a “ peradventure ” in the future that 
you will at least listen to it.’ 

All Agatha’s coolness and self-possession returned 
to her. In the most matter-of-fact way she answered, 

‘ If you propose to make love to me, Colonel Potten, 
it is much better for me to tell you at once that we can 
never sustain any nearer relations than those that exist be- 
tween us now. The man whom I marry must be one to- 
wards whom I feel my soul going out unmistakeably the 
first time I meet him. I am a believer in love at first 
sight.’ 

Colonel Potten could hardly repress the contemptuous 
exclamation that rose to his lips, but finally answered, 

‘ I thought you had more common sense, Miss 
Lee.’ 

Agatha, regardless of this remark, continued, 

‘ Such a man I have never met ; and should I never 
meet such a one, I shall never marry. It is much better 
to remain single than to wed one in whom does not 
exist both congeniality of mind and affinity of tempera- 
ment.’ 

Colonel Potten arose to take his departure, saying as 
he drew on the glove of his left hand, 

‘ You have my best wishes for your future happiness, 
Miss Lee ; but I think you are in error. Some of the 
happiest marriages I have known have been between 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND 


13 


persons who have either contrasts in temperament, or in 
mind ; and with me it is a question whether it is not an 
essential of a perfect marriage that this contrast should 
exist. Good-night. Will you not give me your hand 
in parting ? It may be long before we meet again.’ 

Agatha suffered her fingers to receive the soft pres- 
sure of Colonel Potten’s ungloved hand, but she could not 
repress the chill of aversion that she felt at the contact. 
He knew that it was so ; and, as he walked away, he 
renounced that hope of one day winning her which had 
been inspired in his heart by his full appreciation of her 
worth. 

Agatha had been from childhood peculiarly sus- 
ceptible to that animal magnetic influence which caused 
her to betray in her face, in the tones of her voice even, 
either pleasure or indifference in her intercourse with 
others. She could not fraternise with those who were 
not congenial ; she could not devote herself too assidu- 
ously to those who were. Her face was as a book, 
unfortunately, whereon all could read the emotions with 
which they inspired her ; and too frequently the thoughts 
of her heart found utterance in words. Talleyrand’s 
maxim had no meaning for her — * Language was given 
to us to disguise our thoughts/ 


14 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


CHAPTER II. 

When Colonel Potten crossed the lawn, and passed the 
turnstile that led into his own property, he had fully 
resolved to leave Newport at once ; but ‘man proposes, 
and God disposes/ For more than an hour he walked 
the winding gravelled path that bordered the cliffs which 
commanded a view not only of the bay, whose gently 
heaving surface broke with caressing murmurs against 
the rocks below, but of the mighty ocean beyond, where, 
near the horizon, scattered white sails were dimly seen, 
gliding like ghosts into eternity. 

‘ I was mad ! I was a fool ! ’ he said to himself, ‘ to 
have risked all so soon, without one word, one look of 
encouragement even ! What possessed me ? At my 
age one expects to be done with that boyish romance of 
heart which sends a man rushing headlong into a decla- 
ration before he has made sure of success.’ He glanced 
up at the moon, which in turn looked down upon him, 
as he fancied in mockery, from the masses of vaporous 
clouds that were careering across her path. ‘You have 
the face of a devil to-night,’ he continued, looking 
straight at the peering moon as if he were looking into 
the face of a human being. ‘Yes, the face of a devil, I 
say. It was your cursed witchery that led me into this 
folly ! — this lunacy of making love to a woman who 
scorns love and laughs at lovers ! Before God, I hope her 
turn may come ! ’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND , 


15 


Still pacing the path that bordered his grounds, but 
now with his head bent downwards, he communed in 
silence with his thoughts, arranging and rearranging his 
plans for departure. At last he quickened his steps and 
walked across the sward to his house ; entering his 
library by a window that opened out on the piazza, where 
his favourite dog kept guard, and who made one or two 
unsuccessful attempts to attract some token of recogni- 
tion. The sagacious animal, having more sense than 
some bipeds, saw his master was in no mood for the 
bestowal of favours, and turned back in a dejected 
manner to his place of repose. 

The night was one of those warm, still nights, that 
rarely come so late in the season. Not a breath stirred 
the drooping vines that clustered around the columns of 
the veranda ; not a sound but the murmur of ‘ the ever- 
murmuring sea,’ and the chirp of crickets on the lawn, broke 
upon the silence. Colonel Potten sat down in his easy 
chair, and leaning his head on one hand looked vacantly 
before him ; but his attention was arrested by a solitary 
sealed letter that his eyes fell upon, lying on the library 
table. He recognised the clear bold writing at a glance, 
and a look half of pleasure, half of annoyance, settled upon 
his handsome face as he took it up and broke the seal. 

‘ Bah ! ’ he ejaculated. * It is strange that a man 
who is not a fool should use a crest in this country ! 
How they must laugh at us over the seas for our cursed 
imitations of their weaknesses ! * Then regarding the 
crest more attentively as it clung in its shattered state to 
the envelope, he saw the motto, which, translated, read : 
‘The brave can die, but never yield he added, 
musingly, ‘After all, we who carry scars from such 
battles as Howard and I have fought side by side in, 


16 


O: V DANGEROUS GROUND. 


have a better right to use such symbols, if we have a 
taste that way, than have many of the descendants of 
those old Norman plunderers.' He broke the seal, and 
read, 

‘ Dear Horace, — ‘ You will think me as changeable 
as a woman. I have this moment decided to accept the in- 
vitation that I refused, and you may expect me by boat 
to-morrow, or the day after. My head still troubles me, 
and Panchose has ordered me entire rest of body and 
mind. The idea is truly refreshing, to say nothing of 
what the reality will be to a poor devil who has never 
been allowed to have either. 

‘Yours faithfully, 

‘Paul Howard/ 

Colonel Potten’s eyebrows contracted in a frown. 

‘Just as I expected. Now, I am chained here for 
another month. What imp of darkness ever prompted 
him to accept my invitation, after once having refused it 
on the ground of the dulness of a watering-place when 
the season is over, and the ninety-and-nine invitations 
that he stood committed to accept at country seats 
on the Hudson, Staten Island, and elsewhere, before the 
season commences in town ? I’ll be bound there’s some 
woman in the case.' 

One little word in the corner had escaped his notice. 
‘ Over.' His eye at last rested upon it, and he turned the 
leaf. ‘ P.S. — 1 have learned a new song, and by Jove, 
when I sing it, I feel in love with myself. I fancy it 
renders me irresistible. “ She is mine ! she is mine !” I 
tell you, Horatius, if I had known that song, and had 
sung it to you the night before we cut our way through 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


17 


the rebel ranks in “the wilderness,” we would have 
fought like gods that day ! As it was we fought like in- 
carnate demons, did we not, old fellow ? No, we did 
what was better, we fought like men, for do you not re- 
member how when the sun went down we both 
emptied our flasks at the mouths of the poor wretches 
who had stood up against us when that same sun was 
high in the heavens. You brought me good help that 
day, my comrade, when my horse was shot under me, 
and that cursed Minie ball gave me my ugly wound. I 
want your help now, in another direction. “ All is fair 
in love and in war,” you know. My secret will keep 
until I see you ; in the meantime, commend me to sweet 
“ Saint Agatha,” in the way of a kind word or two in 
behalf of your tried friend and faithful comrade of 
the field ; also to all other saints in your neighbour- 
hood. You see I know something of your surround- 
ings ; my familiar keeps me advised, though seas divide 
and oceans roll between/ 

‘ The devil helps his own,’ was all that Colonel Potten 
said, as he walked to the bell-rope, and after ordering 
the servant who answered it, to close the house for the 
night, went to his chamber. Meantime, how fared it 
with Agatha ? Did not the first ray of pity enter her 
heart to soften it towards the man who had paid her the 
highest compliment that it is in the power of man to pay 
& woman ? If so, she did not betray it in any way. 
When her guests returned to the house, two by two, 
after their moonlight walks, Agatha received them with 
a face as serene as the moonlight itself that streamed in 
through the bay window of the library, where she had 
half buried herself in the luxurious depths of a loung- 
ing chair. Only once was her composure disturbed ; it 
C 


18 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


was when Mrs. Grey came in leaning heavily upon Frank 
Mortimer’s arm, and approaching her, said, 

4 It is agonising to think this is the last night. Oh, 
Miss Lee, I never expect to be as happy again this side 
of heaven.’ 

‘ Are you sure you will go to heaven ? ’ asked Agatha, 
looking up straight into the blue seductive e>es that 
were bent over her. 

* I daresay if I had my deserts I never should get 
beyond the gates ; but then who would ? ’ she replied, 
with her usual aplomb. 

Some eager words trembled upon Agatha’s lips, but, 
remembering her duty as a hostess, she withheld them. 

Mrs. Grey, looking archly back, after saying ‘good- 
night,’ added, 

‘ I thought you would answer that those who have 
charity for others might possibly get within those same 
gates, for charity, we are told, covers a multitude of sins. 
Again, “ good-night.” ’ Agatha arose, and gathered up 
her wrappings. 

‘What is the meaning of all this?’ said Mortimer, 
‘You cannot instruct my fair cousin in any biblical mat- 
ters. She knows every passage by heart, I believe, for she 
brings them out like bomb-shells when she sits in judg- 
ment upon my peccadilloes. “ Saint Agatha ” we call 
her sometimes.’ 

They passed out laughing together, took leave of 
each other at the foot of the staircase, and in another 
hour the house was wrapped in darkness and in silence. 

But Agatha could not sleep. After vainly striving 
to compose herself, she arose, and wrapping her dressing 
gown around her, sat down at the window. How beau- 
tiful the night was ! how glorious ! The loveliness of 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


19 


earth, ocean, and sky was intensified by the bewitching 
moonlight. Agatha was conscious of all this beauty 
though her eyes were cast upwards, as one who sees no- 
thing. Her rippling hair fell over her shoulders and 
wrapped her as in a purple cloud ; and in the clouds she 
was to all intents and purposes. 

4 How lovely it must be in heaven! ’ thought Agatha, 
‘although this world would be quite beautiful enough 
for me, if I did not feel so fearfully lonely at times. 
Here am I, twenty-five years old, and as the world goes 
I have had what everyone calls a happy life ; yet, I 
hope I shall not live to be an old woman. I wonder old 
people are always so anxious to live. What with folly, 
and evil temper in one’s self, or others, and even worse 
things to contend with, I do not think life is so very de- 
sirable. Two or three more years, and I daresay people 
will begin to call me an old maid ; I feel a presentiment 
settling down upon me that I am to be one. Not that 
it would be such an unendurable fate to contemplate, if I 
could only come across that friend I am always looking 
for. I would like above all things to have such a friend- 
ship as I have dreamed of — such as I have often read 
about. I wonder if I ever will realise this desire of my 
heart ?’ 

So musing, Agatha’s eyes closed, and she went off 
into the land of dreams. Here she found herself walk- 
ing hand in hand with a man of noble bearing. Her 
feet were bare, but she did not feel abashed ; not even so 
much as a grain of dust clung to them. How carefully 
he guided her steps, how solicitous he was that she 
should not fatigue herself ; and when they paused to rest 
by the wayside, how tenderly he held both her hands in 
his ! and looking up into his eyes, what revelations of 


20 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


truth and goodness, and pure affection, she read in them ! 
Again, they were hurrying on in the midst of crowds, 
and Agatha saw that all eyes were turned to her feet ; 
but still they were white and spotless. At last they 
came to a piece of road where the mud was thick, and 
little slimy pools of water lay here and there. Agatha 
paused, hesitated, and shrank back. How could she step 
into that oozing soil ? But the clasp of the cool, firm 
hand gave her strength, and drew her onwards : she 
glanced down at her feet, expecting to see the noisome 
mire clinging to them at last ; but no, she had already 
passed through clean and unstained, and now she had 
reached the mossy hills beyond, which she could see 
stretching up and up, ever in higher peaks until they 
seemed to touch the holy stars. Here, her companion, 
holding her head for one moment between his hands, 
just touched her forehead with his lips, and disappeared. 
She called after the vision, and awoke with her arms 
stretched out imploringly. 

The dream seemed so real to Agatha, that for days 
those serene eyes haunted her, while to her heart came 
such longings for love as she had never known before. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


21 


CHAPTER III. 

At the breakfast-table the following morning there 
was no end of badinage in reference to one thing and 
another. The different series of guests that had been 
entertained during the summer and autumn months at 
Mr. Lee’s villa afforded a subject for conjecture. 

‘The first must have .been “the necessary people,” ’ 
remarked Mrs. Grey, ‘ the relatives, and connections, and 
all that could not be left out, you understand, like the 
members of the diplomatic corps at courts, who have 
to be invited, no matter how disagreeable and tire- 
some they are. Then must have been “the elegants,” 
who used always to come in at Compiegne between 
“ the necessary people ” and “ the bores ; ” and now, we 
in turn make way for “ the bores.” Is it not so ? ’ and 
she turned her pretty head on one side, until her long 
curls brushed the hand of the man who had kissed them 
so rapturously the night before. 

He glanced furtively across the table at Agatha, and 
catching her eye, said, ‘ By the way, who are to be your 
next guests ?’ 

‘ A very dear old friend of mine, and some acquaint- 
ances of papa’s,’ she answered. 

‘ Ah ! ’ he replied, feigning a very wise look, ‘ there 
is a secret it seems. Some rejected suitor perhaps, 
who is coming here to console himself with Platonic 
friendship ; ’ then turning to a gentleman who sat near 


22 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


him, he said, 4 That is my cousin’s hobby ; and, would 
you believe it, she has never yet come across a man 
who was wise enough to accept the 1 latonic part and 
trust to luck or himself for the chance of winning more.’ 

Agatha looked like anything but a saint as the laugh 
went round the table. 

1 But won’t you tell us who is coming, or is it really a 
secret?’ asked Miss Hunter, a charming brunette of 
twenty summers who sat on Mr. Mortimer’s left. 

4 Certainly, but I doubt whether you know any of 
them,’ replied Agatha. 4 Papa’s friends, General and 
Mrs. Wheelock ; they ’ 

4 1 will count them in order,’ interrupted her cousin ; 
4 they are one.’ 

4 No, they are decidedly two,’ called out Mr. Lee, 
from his seat at the opposite end of the table. 4 But, 
Agatha, you need not include them, for I have just re- 
ceived a letter from the General to say that he finds it 
impossible to get off from his duties at Washington. 
It never rains but it pours, you know, and here is 
another letter from Macalpine, who writes that he and 
Hastings have decided to go out to Omaha on a shoot- 
ing excursion, urging me to join them.’ 

4 Is it not lovely ? Now Miss Lee will have to ask four 
of us to take their places,’ said Mrs. Barlow, a handsome 
young widow who was seated next to Mr. Lee. 

4 Oh ! dear, adorable Miss Lee, please include me,’ 
cried out Mrs. Grey, while each in turn protested that 
he or she must be one of the favoured ones. 

4 You do me too much honour,’ said Agatha, smiling 
around upon her guests. 4 You see it is quite out of my 
power to select any, when by doing so I should offend 
the others. If my father is disappointed, I regret ex- 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


23 


tremelv the circumstances that have deprived us of the 
visit of his friends ; but I shall not find it difficult to re- 
ceive consolation for their absence in the society of my 
old school-mate and best friend, Mrs. Carroll Tracey, 
who has promised me the whole month of November/ 

4 You were always very fond of Millie/ said Mrs. Bar- 
low, with a shrug of her shoulders ; which seemed to say 
that she was not. 4 I hope you like her husband as well, 
but I think him detestable with his formal freezing ways/ 
4 Tracey detestable ! ’ exclaimed Mr. Lee. 4 Why, he 
is distingut jusqitau bout des ongles / 

4 Ah, Lucy, you and Mildred were never congenial, 
but I thought every one liked her husband/ added 
Agatha. 

4 You thought wrong, my dear; everyone does not 
like Carroll Tracey. There is no love lost between him 
and his wife even. Such a capricious, uncertain mortal 
as she is, could keep no heart true to her : unless one like 
your own, which has the idealizing power of making 
your friends just what you wish them to be/ 

Frank Mortimer lifted his eyebrows, as much as to 
say, 4 That has not been my experience with my cousin 
— she never idealizes me ; ’ then, turning to Mr. Daven- 
port, a man with an English face and heavy auburn 
beard, English cut and cultivated, asked, 

4 Do you know this lovely creature about whom 
sentiments are so divided ? my cousin pronouncing her 
her best friend, and Mrs. Barlow declaring her to be in- 
capable either of love or friendship/ 

4 1 did not exactly say that/ said Mrs. Barlow. 

Mr. Davenport rejoined, 4 Know Mrs. Carroll Tracey ! 
I should think I did. The Traceys have spent two 
winters in Philadelphia/ 


24 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


‘ I have never seen that wonderful city/ replied 
Mortimer ; ‘ but if I lead a good moral life I hope to go 
there when I die.’ 

‘ For shame, Mr. Mortimer, that is not original. I 
have heard it before/ said Mrs. Grey. 

* You had better go there while you live, if you want 
to have a good time on earth/ continued Mr. Davenport, 
‘for I know no city where there are so many pretty 
women. As for Mrs. Tracey, she is only one of a score 
whom it is a sin to allow to go around loose, turning the 
heads of half the men they meet. But you know she 
has gone back to New York to live/ 

‘ Hah ! ’ laughed Mortimer, ‘ if straws show which 
way the wind blows, you must have been badly hit/ 

‘ I acknowledge it/ replied Davenport. ‘ I never ex- 
pect to get over it. You see there is no hope nor no 
chance for a man of my prosaic, matter-of-fact ways 
with a woman like Mrs. Tracey, all heart and feeling 
and impulse : besides, Mrs. Barlow to the contrary, I 
assert that she has no eyes for any man but her hus- 
band/ 

Mrs. Barlow, who had been looking very complacent 
since Mr. Davenport’s encomiums upon Philadelphia 
women, she being one, was just upon the point of re- 
plying, when Mrs. Dexter, the lady on the right of Mr. 
Lee, exclaimed, 

‘ It is charming even to hear of such a woman in 
these days/ glancing, as she spoke, down the table at her 
young and volatile relative, Mrs. Grey, who, during Frank 
Mortimer’s occasional absences to New York, had mono- 
polised the attentions of the rather heavy looking indi- 
vidual, whom, by virtue of the marriage tie, Mrs. Dexter 
looked upon as so especially her property that she was 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


25 


extremely averse to sharing his attentions with her best 
friends even.* 

‘It is just as I tell you/ continued Mr. Davenport. 

‘ She has been married five or six years, during which 
time no one has ever heard any man’s name coupled with 
hers, even in a harmless flirtation/ 

* How about Harold Graham ? ’ asked Mrs. Barlow. 

‘ That is an old affair. I believe she jilted him be- 
fore she married Tracey/ 

‘ Or he jilted her, which was it ? I thought there 
was some talk about them after her marriage/ 

‘ I never heard any. I never heard any man’s name 
mentioned with hers ; although I wonder that people 
have not talked about Paul Howard and herself ; for if 
ever a man tried to compromise a woman, that renegade 
has tried to compromise her ; following her about wher- 
ever she goes in the summer time ; and now that the 
Traceys have gone back to New York I daresay he will 
be more devoted to her than ever/ 

‘ This is getting intensely interesting/ said Mortimer. 
‘ I wish, Agatha, you would make a point of my remain- 
ing. The only feature in my favour is that they have 
left “ the city of brotherly love ” and pitched their tent 
in “ Sodom” it seems. Before the winter is over, I am 
bound to know her. What business is her husband in ? 
or is he one of those lucky dogs whose fathers or grand- 
fathers cut business, and left an inheritance that ren- 
dered business unnecessary to those who came after 
them ? ’ 

/ He is just one of that sort/ answered Mr. Daven- 
port. ‘ He is a Boston man — has literary tastes, and 
writes books, or translates them ; which is all the same 
thing, all trash and transcendentalism. I have been 


26 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


told he gets quite a good income by it. It is said that 
he neglects his wife — most literary men do, I believe — 
at all events, he writes half of the year, and the other 
half he is off shooting or yachting. Quite enough to 
justify his wife in getting a divorce, I should say.’ 

1 Perhaps she does not wish for one/ suggested Mrs. 
Grey, who had been pouting over Mr. Mortimer’s evident 
interest in the stranger ; but he was utterly regardless, 
and said again to Agatha, ‘ Won’t you take compassion 
on me, and ask me for another month. I am so much 
interested in this paragon, that I want to have an op- 
portunity of judging for myself. Why, it is really more 
marvellous than any fiction I ever read. A ravishingly 
lovely young wife, who is so much in love with her hus- 
band that she cannot console herself in the remotest de- 
gree by the attentions of the men who plunge over head 
and ears in love with her, without the slightest encourage- 
ment ! I consider it a settled thing, Agatha, that I am 
to stay.’ 

Before Agatha had time to answer, Mrs. Grey broke 
in, ‘ Now do be amiable, and ask both of us, Miss Lee. I 
will promise to devote myself to the Blue-Beard ; and Mr. 
Mortimer will make an impression upon “ the paragon ; ” 
and you will have your reward in the quantity of anthra- 
cite you save ; for you may rest assured, all Newport 
could not furnish coal enough to keep your house at a 
temperature in which human life could be sustained 
with two such icebergs within its walls as you and he 
must be.’ 

‘ Were you ever on the Grimsel — in Switzerland ? ’ 
asked Agatha. 

‘ Yes ; but why do you ask ? ’ 

I thought that possibly you had never seen the 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


27 


myriads of flowers that bloom near the glacier of the 
Rhone, side by side with fields of snow — flowers so 
delicate that they would perish in the fierce heat and 
glare of a tropical sun/ Agatha looked as merciless 
as she felt. Mrs. Grey perfectly understood the implied 
simile, but she answered quite carelessly, 

‘ I never cared for wild flowers as I do for gorgeous 
exotics and glowing blossoms of tropical plants ; but I 
would never have suspected that you, Miss Lee, could 
care for flowers at all. Take my advice and repress 
your fondness, for if you admit into your heart the weak- 
ness of loving flowers of any description you may end 
by loving all. Spring comes in with lilies and snow- 
drops ; but summer brings great deep-hearted roses, 
that break with their own weight, sometimes.’ 

Frank Mortimer, entirely unsuspicious of any hidden 
meaning in these words, turned to Mrs. Grey, 

4 You did not suspect my cousin of the weakness of 
loving flowers ? Why, she used to say, before she took 
vows of celibacy, that when she got married she was 
going to have hyacinths in her sitting-room, even if she 
should marry a man who could not afford to have 
carpets.’ 

There was such a chattering kept up around the 
table that Mrs. Grey’s low tones in answer fell upon no 
other ears than those for which they were intended. 

4 It would seem that the sayings and doings of your 
cousin Agatha have made a great impression upon you 
in times past, that you remember them so long. You 
are always quoting them.’ 

Frank Mortimer did not stand fire well on that 
occasion, although more than once he had received 
honourable mention in the despatches of his General for 


28 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND „ 


his bravery on the field of battle, when, as aide-de-camp , he 
had carried orders through storms of flying shot and ex- 
ploding shells. A crimson flush mounted to his temples, 
where blonde, crisp waves of hair clustered thickly, and 
his eyes fell under the searching glance that he en- 
countered. 

‘ I assure you we have never been on passably friendly 
terms even. She is much too good to fraternise even 
in a cousinly way with a harum-scarum fellow like 
myself/ 

* There are various kinds of goodness, as well as 
various degrees of each kind/ answered Mrs. Grey. ‘ I 
daresay she is one who is so thoroughly imbued with all 
kinds, that she has no faults of her own to correct, and 
so has an ambition to make the world better. I wonder 
whether she has ever had a temptation ; because if she 
has not, I do not believe in her goodness. People who 
have never known a temptation are always the hardest 
upon the sins of others. It is quite evident that she 
looks upon our little flirtation as one of the seven deadly 
sins. Heavens ! I wish she were the wife of an unprin- 
cipled, dissipated rout, and then fell into the society of a 
man so congenial as to make her forget that she had 
a husband ! ’ 

‘ Do be careful what you say,’ implored Mortimer. 
‘There, look at your nice travelling gown, with your 
coffee streaming over it ! * By a gesture of impatience 
Mrs. Grey had upset a portion of her coffee as they rose 
from the table. When one of the servants had repaired the 
mischief as far as it lay in his power, the carriages had 
come around, and all were engrossed by preparations for 
departure. They alone remained in the breakfast-room. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


29 


‘ It is quite impossible to persuade you to go as far 
as Boston with us ? You could return by the boat from 
Fall River this evening.' She had such a pleading ex- 
pression in her eyes that they said more than the words 
even. 

‘ It really is impossible. You have forgotten that it 
is business that keeps me here. Though only one day 
longer, I am to be pitied that it is so.' 

Still she lingered ; her eyes were cast downwards, 
and her breath came in long, tremulous swells. 

‘ Do you not pity me ? ’ he asked, lifting her hand to 
his lips. 

* Yes, I do pity you, if I divine aright the nature of the 
business that detains you. You are going to offer yourself 
to your cousin ; and if she accepts you, you will know 
what the curse of a granted prayer is when one has prayed 
for something that destiny ought to deny. But she will 
not accept you. She is as cold as snow — as cold as the 
glacier she preached to me about to-day.' Her little, 
gesturing hand, which she had withdrawn from his clasp, 
lay soft and dimpled upon his arm as she ceased speak- 
ing and with eyes upturned to his, she pleaded, 4 Do not 
break your own heart against that woman’s heart of 
marble ! ' 

He took the soft, warm hand once more and again 
carried it to his lips, saying, ‘ You foolish little woman ! I 
must teach you not to be jealous ! Agatha is nothing to 
me, nor has she ever been ! ' 

A footfall caused them to turn, when they en- 
countered Agatha’s eyes. A ghost could not have 
startled them more. How much or how little had she 
heard ? 


30 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


There were noisy adieus, much chattering, kissing of 
hands, and waving of handkerchiefs as one by one the 
carriages rolled away with their occupants. 

Mr. Lee and Frank Mortimer followed on saddle 
horses down to the boat, to see the merry party off on 
their way to their various destinations. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


31 


CHAPTER IV. 

That day Mr. Lee, Agatha, and Frank Mortimer dined 
alone. Mr. Lee was still a fine-looking man, although 
more than fifty years of age, but so scrupulously careful 
of the cut of his beard, and of his dress, as to cause him 
to appear much younger. 

‘ So the bewitching widow did not catch you in her 
toils, my good uncle/ said Frank. 

i I must do her the justice to say that if she had 
spread them, I should most undoubtedly have been 
caught. I daresay you think I am old enough to have 
gotten over such follies ; but to this day I cannot 
have a pretty woman make love to me without making 
love to her myself/ 

i Matrimonially ?* asked Frank, looking rather 
quizzical. 

* Not exactly ; although there is no knowing how it 
might end if Agatha did not keep me under surveil- 
lance . / 

‘ How strange, that having such a susceptible father 
I am not more susceptible myself/ said Agatha. 

‘ It is rather odd. Dexter said last evening I was 
fortunate in keeping you so long ; but I must remember 
in the course of nature I would be the first to go, and 
that I ought to see you settled in life, if for no other 
reason than that I might leave you without a protector. 


32 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND J 


He has yet the fancy that it is some quixotic idea about 
leaving me that prevents you from marrying. Now if 
that is the case I shall arrange a manage de convenance 
for you at once. By the way, Frank, have you observed 
what a watch Dexter’s wife keeps over him ? ’ 

i Of course I have. Who has not ? I rather pity 
that man. He deserves a better fate.’ 

‘ I think he can dispense with your pity/ said Agatha. 
i He seems quite able to take care of himself ; and 
although he feels his wife’s watchfulness, without doubt 
he has the good sense not to show it. He resigned 
himself to Mrs. Grey’s devotion when you were away ; 
and papa can tell you how very devoted she was.’ 

‘ But Mrs. Grey is his cousin,’ replied her father. 

‘ Cousins are not necessarily devoted,’ said Agatha. 

* That is quite true/ remarked Frank, with emphatic 
fervour. 

‘ Agatha and she did not fraternise very well ; I saw 
that from the first,’ said Mr. Lee. 

* No, papa, we did not ; and if you knew her better 
you would be sorry if I did fraternise with her.’ 

* Don’t be too severe upon her/ exclaimed Frank. 

‘ She is not bad an fond. I think you were a little hard 
upon her, Agatha.’ 

‘ Not until she conducted herself in a way that con- 
vinced me that she was bad at heart ; and how you can 
say that she was not is more than I can understand.’ 

Frank always avoided a discussion with his cousin, 
and he now adroitly changed the conversation by asking 
her opinion of Mrs. Barlow. 

‘ I thought she had designs upon my father at one 
time,’ she answered. 

* And I thought Mrs. Dexter was afraid that she had 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


designs upon her husband/ said Mr. Lee. 4 You, 
Agatha, ought to sympathise with Mrs. Dexter, for you 
take as good care of me, evidently, as she does of her 
husband. What did you think of “the dead set” 
that the little Hunter made for Davenport?’ I 
think it was a great waste of ammunition. Daven- 
port is not a marrying man : don’t you agree with me, 
Agatha ?’ 

‘ I think Mr. Davenport is like many other men — he 
is not a marrying man because he does not happen to 
meet any one whom he wishes to marry ; when he does, 
he will be a marrying man, I daresay. I rather like Mr. 
Davenport myself, but I am quite sure that he does not 
like me : he is always so gene when he is with me.’ 

‘ On the contrary, he told me he had the greatest 
admiration for you, and that when he came across a 
woman like you, who would have him, he intended to 
marry/ said Mr. Lee. 

Frank burst out into tumultuous laughter. ‘ Well, 
that is one way of declaring one’s self ; just like Daven- 
port. I thought he had some secret grief, for his nose is 
getting so red, and his eyes so bleared that they suggest 
hopeless weeping, and all that sort of thing.’ 

‘ How hateful in you ! ’ exclaimed Agatha ; and yet 
she joined in the laugh. 

Thus, through dinner they chatted about their late 
guests, now one, and now another ; but Frank took care 
that Mrs. Grey did not again come under discussion. 
When dinner was ended Mr. Lee strolled off to ‘ look in 
upon Potten, and smoke a cigar with him,’ as he said ; 
and Agatha, after giving orders for the saddle horses to 
be brought around later for herself and her cousin, be- 


34 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


took herself to her chamber, leaving Frank to amuse 
himself as he chose. He grumbled a little at being 
turned off so unceremoniously, and then went to the 
billiard-room to smoke his cigar, pacing up and down as 
he smoked, quite lost in thought, and a sentence or two 
occasionally escaping him. 

‘ I might as well cry for the moon, I dare say.’ Puff, 
puff — the soft smoke curled in hollow rings upwards as he 
withdrew his cigar, and permitted it to escape his lips in a 
peculiar manner, pausing and watching them as they 
broke and dissolved in the air. ‘ Still, she only treats me 
as she does all the rest — no worse, I think — no better, I 
am sure/ Puff, puff, puff — the smoke came out in clouds 
now, and he walked backwards and forwards without 
heeding it. ‘ She is my first love, my only love ; and 
who knows what is in her heart ? It is an encourage- 
ment that she looked staggered to-day when she came 
upon us so suddenly. Perhaps the secret of her indif- 
ference to others is some hidden love ; and if so, why 
may I not be the object?’ He paused now in front of 
the broad mirror that hung against the chimney, and 
saw there a face that a woman might well have been 
pardoned for fancying. The violet eyes were luminous 
with the tenderness of a newly-awakened hope ; the full, 
red lips were struck apart in a smile, disclosing teeth of 
brilliant whiteness ; the well-poised head, the broad 
shoulders, the Antinous brow, all combined to give 
Frank Mortimer confidence in his own powers ; and his 
resolution was taken on the spot. ‘ I will know to-night 
what my chances are — to-night. Anything is better 
than this suspense.’ 

The horses were led around at the appointed hour, 
and Agatha came down, looking almost a beauty in her 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


3 h 


well-made riding habit. Frank always thought her 
beautiful ; and as he seated her, he took the opportunity 
of saying, 1 My elegant cousin never looks better than 
when she is in riding costume/ 

‘ I wish I could return the compliment,’ answered 
Agatha ; 6 but your ideas of a man’s riding costume are 
so different from mine, that I think you never look worse. 
You affect English ways so much that I wonder you do 
not adopt their sensible dress.’ 

‘ I flattered myself that my get-up was quite Eng- 
lish,’ Mortimer replied, glancing down with evident pride 
at his top-boots. 

* Some day you will ride in Rotten Row, I daresay, 
and then you can take observations. I doubt whether 
you will make yourself look so much like an English 
groom or a jockey afterwards as you have a fancy for 
doing now ; but not even a groom would appear mounted 
with such a thing as you wear on your head.’ 

‘ A thing ! ’ exclaimed Mortimer. ‘ Why, this is the 
last mode ; positively the latest novelty out.’ 

‘ No novelties are admitted in riding dress,’ answered 
Agatha. ‘ There is only one hat for a man to wear, or a 
woman either, if they wish to be comme il faut. But I am 
not in the mood for talking ; let us try a gallop.’ They 
took a long ride, returning after sunset, Agatha’s face 
glowing from the exhilarating exercise, and seemingly 
another being, laughing and jesting with her cousin 
with greater freedom of manner than she had shown 
towards him for many a long day. He could not account 
for the change, but gave himself up to the happiness of 
knowing that it was so. He had adored her from his 
boyhood, his love increasing with his years, instead of 
diminishing, notwithstanding her apparent or seeming 


36 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


indifference. He felt when he was with her that there 
was no hope for him, and yet he never avoided an oppor- 
tunity to be in her company. The slightest encourage- 
ment from her would at any time within years have 
brought about a declaration, but she had long ago re- 
nounced that familiarity which their cousinly relations en- 
titled him to expect. He was the envy of all his friends, 
and hated by his rivals, for his successes with women ; 
but could they have known how indifferent he was to it 
all, how gladly he would have left to them every one of 
the wives, widows, and maidens to whom he had made 
love (or who had made love to him) for the heart of the 
only woman whom he did covet, they would have com- 
passionated instead of envied him. 

Agatha possibly would have been at a loss to explain 
to herself why she had so suddenly relapsed into her old 
familiarity, but it was because she thought she had less 
to fear from him than heretofore in the way of love- 
making. Her heart, which had been hardened towards 
him instead of softened by the knowledge of his passion, 
was no longer on its guard, now that she had made the 
discovery that he was interested in another. She even 
accepted his proffered arm, leaning lightly on it, and 
laughing up into his face, at some light jest which he had 
uttered, as she crossed the piazza and the hall to the 
library, where she dropped wearied into her favourite 
lounging chair in the recess of the window. Her cheeks 
were no longer marble pale, but flushed to a roseate hue ; 
and as she laid aside her hat, her wealth of hair broke 
loose, and flowed around her. The moon had just risen, 
and threw out from the mass of dark clouds that framed 
it as if it were some enormous jewel, a flood of be- 
witching light. It streamed through the window, full 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


37 


upon her expressive face. Her cousin stood in the 
shadows, leaning against the mantel with his arms folded, 
regarding her as some devotee might regard a shrine 
which was too sacred for him to approach. 

4 Have you no conversation ?’ she said at last, repeat- 
ing one of his own frequent phrases. 

4 If you were like other women you would appreciate 
my silence more than any conversation/ he replied. 

4 Indeed ! Are you so stupid that women generally like 
you best when you do not talk ? ’ 

4 You do but feign ignorance of my meaning, for you 
well know Agatha, that the highest form of worship is 
silent adoration/ 

4 You speak in enigmas; pray explain yourself/ 

4 1 would be only too happy to do so, if I dared/ 

4 You may dare anything, after what I overheard this 
morning, when you parted with Mrs. Potiphar/ 

4 Mrs. who ? ’ he asked. 

4 Mrs. Potiphar Grey ; at least, that is what her name 
ought to be. I look upon that woman with horror, and 
I wish papa had never^invited her here ; but you know 
he travelled with her and her husband in California, and 
as she was staying with the Dexters when he visited them 
in Philadelphia, he included her in the invitation. She 
is the worst woman I ever knew/ 

4 How little you know your own sex. The worst 
woman that you ever knew ! Why, there is no down- 
right badness about her; she is rather Mgfoe, perhaps, 
but you know hosts of women who are worse than she 
is. I declare, Agatha, you know no more about the 
world of society than a girl of eighteen. I know many 
of that age who are wiser than you in such matters. If 
you would only take pity on me, and make a true, good 


38 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


man of me, as a woman pure as yourself may make even 
the worst of men!’ 

4 1 am glad to learn that your conscience is awakened 
to the fact that you are not good and true, Frank. I 
have been awfully deceived in you. Until last evening 
I looked upon you as a perfectly moral man. I would 
as soon have thought of my father’s making love to the 
wife of another as I would have thought of your doing 
such a thing.’ 

Earnestly as Agatha spoke, her cousin could not re- 
press a smile. She saw it and continued, 

‘ It is no trifling matter in my eyes, that of making 
love to another man’s wife. I can assure you that after 
the occurrences of last evening, I felt for a time as though 
I never could speak to you again.’ 

‘ You quite intrigue me. What did you see that was 
so dreadful ? ’ asked Mortimer, in a tone of affected in- 
terest. 

* I saw you kiss that woman’s curls more than once, 
and once I saw you kiss her on her lips,’ said Agatha, 
looking defiantly at him, as though she expected he 
would be brought to confusion by the weight of her ac- 
cusation ; but he only shook his head, looking very 
austere, and incapable of such culpability. 

4 Do you deny it ? ’ 

‘ The shadows must have deceived you,’ he answered 
solemnly. 

Rays of angry light darted from her eyes as bending 
forward she said, 

‘ Frank, you are demoralised in more ways than one ; 
but how could I expect that you cared for the truth, 
when you could countenance disloyalty in a woman, to 
say nothing of having the sin upon your soul of leading 
her into it ? If you love Mrs. Grey, why do you not 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


39 


love her well enough to help her bear the miserable lot 
that has befallen her — as a woman should bear all such 
sorrows as are hers — uncomplainingly ? Let your friend- 
ship lighten them, but do not seek to disgrace her.’ 

‘ I love Mrs. Grey! I have never made any profes- 
sion of loving her. She only amuses me ; and when a man 
has nothing to live for, he is grateful to those who do 
but amuse him. There are a hundred women whom I 
like better than Mrs. Grey, and perhaps not one of the 
hundred who has the excuse that she has for forgetting 
her duties ; but let us drop this conversation, or if you 
wish to continue it, let us say no more of Mrs. Grey, 
but speak of women in general, and not particularise.’ 
He drew up a chair, and sat down near her, their faces 
confronting each other. 

He continued, ‘ Do you think there is any harm in 
making love to a pretty woman, even if she does happen 
to have a husband, when you have nothing better to do? 
when, for instance, the woman whom you really love 
will not let you make love to her ? You see it is a ne- 
cessity of man’s nature. One way or another, he is 
obliged to keep his hand in.’ 

Agatha looked sternly at him. ‘ Have you no re- 
spect for the rights of others ? Do you think it is manly 
to rob another of what he values most ? If you had a 
wife, would you like other men to make love to her, and 
kiss her, just to keep their hands in ?’ 

'No, by Jove ! I should not. You are quite right, as 
you always are, and I am wrong, fearfully wrong, in try- 
ing to distract myself by such a life as I am leading. 
Agatha ! if you will only try to love me a little ; I will 
not ask much, I will be satisfied with so little that surely 
you can give it to me to save me from perdition. If you 
will only be my wife, I swear to you, I will never breathe 


40 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


a vow to any other woman. I will be as true as the 
needle to the pole/ He had seized one of her hands 
and was covering it with passionate kisses. So firmly 
did he hold it in both of his, that she made no effort to 
withdraw it, but looked at him in a vacant, bewildered 
way, as though she failed to catch the meaning of the 
tide of words that he poured out, without giving her a 
moment in which she could either check him or reply. 

He continued, 'You must know the idolatry that is 
in my heart for you ; you must know how it has been 
consuming me like a smothered flame, consuming my 
better impulses and aspirations, I mean— I have never 
looked in any woman’s eyes with any pure, true love, 
such as I feel for you. It is your coldness that has 
driven me to others, and made me what I am. Be more 
merciful, Agatha — be my wife, my darling. You will 
find no one to love you as I love you, my darling, darling 
Agatha.’ 

When at last he paused, she said quite frigidly, 

‘ What does this mean ? I daresay you will tell me 
next that I was dreaming this morning when I heard you 
say to Mrs. Grey, "Agatha is nothing to me, nor has she 
ever been.” ’ 

* No, I admit that you did hear me say those very 
words ; but you know that I spoke as falsely then as I 
am speaking truthfully now.’ 

She drew away the hand upon which he had been 
raining such burning kisses, and said. 

4 Am I to know by inspiration when your words are 
true and when they are false ? I possess no such power 
of discrimination. I have heard of lunatics who always 
rave when the moon is at its full. I am perfectly sure 
that you are one of them.’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


41 


He arose, pacing the apartment excitedly. 

* She was right/ he said. ‘ No marble statue, no ice- 
berg could be colder than you are, Agatha. You do not 
even know what it is to feel for another’s misery, and 
do you know what the poet says of such ? 

To each their sufferings : all are men 
Condemned alike to groan ; 

The tender for another’s pain, 

The unfeeling for his own. 

I hope the prophecy may be a false one in your case, but 
something tells me it will not be — that you will have 
woes of your own to bring you to feel for those of others. 
You are not only the coldest woman I have ever known, 
but you are the hardest upon the sins of others. Why 
it should have been my unhappy fate to love you is more 
than I can divine. I suppose, “ because the heart is like 
water, it flows where it will,” as Lamartine says ; but God 
pity any man who follows in my footsteps, for you do not 
know what pity is/ 

More mad words he would have said, stung as he was 
by the freezing, scornful tones of his cousin’s answer, but 
she interrupted him. 

4 If, as you say, the heart is like water and flows 
where it will, why do you blame me, that mine will not 
flow where you would choose that it should ? You are 
both inconsistent and unreasonable. As for my being 
ice, or marble, or any other unlovable substance, I trust 
I shall continue to be, until I meet a man who is capable 
of loving one woman so entirely that he has neither 
temptation nor inclination to make love to another.’ 

Here she arose, adding as she gathered up the skirt 
of her riding habit in her hand, and turned to leave, 

* More than this ; I hope he will have such reverence 


42 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


for the laws of God and man, that he will feel as little 
sympathy as I do for one who is so regardless of both 
that he degrades himself and others by his conduct, and 
his loose ideas of morality.’ 

She had gone before he had time to recover from the 
stunned sensation that her swiftly uttered words gave 
him. He pressed one hand to his forehead, and looked 
wildly after her. Then an awful appeal for vengeance 
broke from his lips, mingling as it did the names of Deity 
and fiend. 

* Great God ! make her to love as hopelessly as I love 
her. I would sell my soul to the devil to bring it about.’ 

While in this moment of his despair his selfish love 
would have drawn down this curse upon Agatha, he 
would have been the last man in calmer hours to desire 
such a fate for any woman — far less for the one to whom 
he had given the purest love of his heart. But in these 
bitter moments it seemed to him that his love was trans- 
formed into hatred, and that the vengeance that he 
prayed for would be sweeter to him than life. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


43 


CHAPTER V. 

The lovely, sunny October days had gone, taking 
with them the last vestige of autumn’s gay mantle, 
and November found Mr. Lee on his way to Omaha 
with his friends for the shooting excursion which 
they had planned ; leaving Mr. and Mrs. Carroll Tracey 
with Agatha, in sole possession of Seacliffe, their villa 
by the sea. 

Colonel Potten, after learning that he had been at 
fault in interpreting his friend’s postscript, and that Paul 
Howard had no designs upon his fair neighbour, never 
even having met her, took him over and introduced him ; 
and so it came about that they found him very agreeable 
company during the cheerless days that heralded No- 
vember in, and kept them within doors. Morning after 
morning he sang with Mrs. Tracey, for she also was as 
wonderfully gifted in voice as himself ; possessing one of 
those charming mezzo-soprano voices, full of sympathetic 
qualities ; so fresh and rich and mellow, as to make 
listeners think of nightingales cleaving the air with their 
wings and soaring heavenwards as they sing. Mr. Tracey 
was never in the music-room, being much occupied with 
a German translation which he had promised for a given 
date ; and so hurried was he that, finding Agatha a good 
German scholar, he, upon several occasions, accepted the 
assistance which she offered ; for this was work that 


44 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


Agatha delighted in. As the time drew near for its 
completion, she became more and more engrossed by 
her assumed labours, until not even the attractions of 
the music-room possessed sufficient power to detain her 
long from her fascinating occupation. This state of things 
lasted until the sullen November sky, which had seemed 
to pile up thicker and darker clouds day after day, at 
last stood out deep and blue, and there was no more rain 
nor fog, for as in the days of the Deluge, ‘ the former 
things had passed away.’ And now, Agatha made her 
guests ride and drive and walk, and enjoy the glorious 
weather to her heart’s content and their own ; and 
wherever they went, there Paul Howard was also ; and 
when they returned to the house after their various ex- 
cursions, his rich baritone voice blended with Mrs. 
Tracey’s, in song after song, while Agatha sat at the library 
table with Mr. Tracey, helping him to recover the time 
he had lost. One day, when Mrs. Tracey entered the 
library, and found Agatha elbow deep nearly in sheets 
of manuscript, which she was busily revising before sub- 
mitting to her companion in lterary labours, she said, 
sitting down beside her, 

* How good you are to my husband ! I am sure that 
nothing on earth would tempt me to make such a drudge 
of myself. I do not see how you can translate one 
chapter, and Carroll the next, and not have it observable 
in the style of the translation.’ 

‘ I confess that surprises me,’ answered Agatha, ‘ but 
Mr. Tracey says that no one would ever know that the 
chapters had not all been translated by the same person ; 
and I can see that it is so myself. I think there must be 
some sympathy between us, or that we must be en 
rapport . This passage which I have just translated will 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


45 


explain the mystery ; ’ and Agatha read, ‘ I am almost 
afraid there must exist some affinity between us, or we 
would not so quickly have discovered what was sym- 
pathetic in each of us, nor would we have learned so 
soon to speak with such unreserved candour and to un- 
derstand each other by a mere word or hint.’ 

Mr. Tracey, who had held his pen idly in his hand, 
while Agatha read, his handsome head still bent over his 
work, now glanced up at her. Their eyes met ; one 
quick look of appreciative recognition, soul speaking 
with soul, as it were, and he was once more hard at work. 
His eyes were peculiar eyes, of that pure grey which one 
rarely meets with, with long dark lashes ; and as Agatha 
caught this glance, a disturbing memory seized her and 
haunted her with dim recollections which she could not 
bring to the light. They surely reminded her of other 
eyes that she had seen, but when and where, she could 
not recall. 

1 Do you like German novels ? ’ asked Mrs. Tracey. 
i They have a great fascination for me, but I cannot 
say that I like them as I do the works of Charlotte 
Bronte, Kingsley, George Eliot and other English 
authors. When compared with these, writers of the 
German school seem to possess but shallow merit.’ 

'But the German novels are so much more in- 
tellectual. Have you read “ On the Heights ? ” ’ 

' I commenced it, but I could not finish it. I did 
not think that even you, with all your romance, could 
have patience to wade through that book.’ 

‘ I have read it three times, from beginning to end, 
and I consider it the novel of the age. I almost know 
it by heart — pages of it at least. Tell me, Agatha, 
where you will find a book with such deep, grand and 


46 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


suggestive studies of human life as its pages unfold. I 
admit that there are some German novels which you 
cannot read without feeling bewildered before you reach 
the end, as to what is right and what is wrong ; but in 
all the moral questions treated of by Auerbach in that 
novel, there is not one that falls below humanity's highest 
ideal. I wish some people whom I could name would 
read it, it would do the work of an apostle.' 

‘ I hope you do not know any people naughty enough 
to need such an apostle ; and if you did, you may rest 
assured that book would not help them much,' replied 
Agatha. ‘ As for books that bewilder one as to what is 
right and what is wrong — I never saw any such, and I 
hope I never may. What are you reading now ? ’ 

‘ One of Spieihagen’s — “ From Night to Light,” — 
but I must not interrupt you any longer, for I see 
signs on Carroll’s face that our chattering is disturbing 
him.' 

‘Not at all. I am only at a loss for a word here that 
expresses enough, without expressing too much,’ said 
Mr. Tracey, taking up Agatha’s copy of the book they 
were translating, and turning the leaves until he found 
the passage he was at work upon, pointing it out to her, 
saying, ‘ I wish you would glance over this, and then tell 
me how you would render the passage.’ They held the 
book between them, looking over it together, and in 
doing so their hands met. Mr. Tracey withdrew his 
with such suddenness as to disconcert Agatha, whose 
face grew crimson. ‘ Let us each write out the transla- 
tion and then compare them,' she said. 

Mr. Tracey assented, and in a few moments the 
translations lay side by side. Bending over them, each 
read that of the other. Simultaneously, they both 
looked up. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


47 


* What a singular coincidence ! ’ exclaimed Agatha, 
her voice as clear as the peal of a sweet-toned bell. 

‘ It is more than a coincidence/ replied Carroll Tracey; 
but his voice was husky like that of one who seeks to 
smother some deep feeling. He resumed his work again, 
leaning his head wearily on one hand as he wrote with 
the other ; his clear-cut profile turned towards Agatha, 
whose eyes still rested upon him, as if questioning some 
explanation. There were lines of care and sorrow in his 
singularlyhandsome face, which made it even more attrac- 
tive than it would have been without them ; and as 
Agatha glanced from him to his wife, she wondered what 
was the mystery of their life ; for that there was one she 
had not been long in discovering. 

‘ Mildred, come here/ she called, ‘ I want to show you 
what a strange thing has happened. Mr. Tracey and I 
were translating the same passage. Read it, and see 
what an involuted sentence it is, and how enigmatically 
the author has expressed himself/ 

Mrs. Tracey took the book, read the passage, and 
answered, ‘ I have not the remotest idea what he wishes 
to say. I should call it the most transcendental of all 
transcendental ideas. What do you make of it ? 9 

Agatha, without speaking, handed the two half- sheets 
of paper, and there were the two translations precisely 
the same, word for word, as if one had been copied from 
the other, and one was in the handwriting of Carroll 
Tracey, and the other in Agatha’s. 

‘ You must have each made your translations aloud/ 
said Mrs. Tracey. 

* We did not, but no one will ever believe us. I feel 
an awfully weird sort of feeling, as if Mephistopheles 
had been standing at our elbows, and had himself dic- 
tated what we have written.’ 


48 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


As Mrs. Tracey walked back with her book to the 
window seat, where she had been reading, she said, 

‘ A decided case of affinity. I expect you will be 
my successor, Agatha.* 

€ Which shows what an amazing amount of conceit 
you have in behalf of your husband,’ she replied, in no 
way embarrassed. 

At this moment a servant brought in the card 
of Mr. Paul Howard to Mrs. Tracey, and she left the 
library to join him in the music-room. 

Agatha, hard at work, never noticed that Carroll 
Tracey had laid aside his pen, and was regarding her 
steadfastly; but with a look in his eyes as though he 
were lost in a reverie. Suddenly looking up at last, she 
noticed him, and said, 

‘ Mr. Tracey, what are you thinking of? ’ 

‘ I daresay you would not feel the least interest, Miss 
Lee, if I were to tell you. And yet, what woman’s heart 
is without pity ? I was thinking of a friend who has 
made the greatest mistake in his life that a man can 
make ; and so, thrown all his chances for happiness in 
this world away.’ 

‘ Poor fellow ! but what is the greatest mistake that 
a man can make ? I have no idea.’ 

4 To act from a mistaken sense of duty in points in- 
volving the happiness of others as well as his own.’ 

‘ But a mistake acknowledged can surely be rectified. 
Where there is no sin — no crime, a mistake cannot be 
fatal in its consequences. In fact, as I believe, what we 
look upon sometimes as mistakes, are but events neces- 
sary to the unfolding and highest development of our 
powers. Possibly your friend may live to discover that 
his mistake will lead him into the greatest happiness of 
his life.’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


49 


* Into its greatest misery rather, the misery of bring- 
ing home to him the daily contemplation of what “ might 
have been ” but for his folly.’ 

i Standing in the dark as I do in reference to your 
friend’s error, of course I cannot judge for him ; but if 
he has no greater misery to bear than the contemplation 
of what might have been if he had had the ordering and 
directing of his steps, instead of Providence, I should 
advise him to put more trust in God and less in his own 
capabilities.’ 

4 That is a woman’s way of reasoning.’ 

4 “ Vous etes femme ; vous ne comprenez rien,” 
Count de Gobineau puts in the mouth of one of his 
characters ; you go farther and say, “ Vous etes femme ; 
vous ne savez rien.” ’ 

4 God forbid ! on the contrary, I think with Goethe 
that men possessing the highest natures must have much 
of the woman in them, so exalted is my opinion of the 
sex. But I have never seen a woman who could reason 
logically ; or rather, to speak literally, I have never seen 
a woman who could argue logically, that I would ever 
care to meet again.’ 

* Which is equivalent to saying that you have met 
women who have driven you to the wall in argument, 
is it not ? ’ 

4 1 daresay it might be so construed, but my meaning 
was, that women who are logical are generally so un- 
womanly, in one way or another, as to lose their greatest 
charms as women.’ 

‘ Then, as you do not like reasoning women, you no 
doubt like impulsive ones.’ 

‘ I like impulsive women who have sufficient strength 
of character to control and direct their impulses, instead 
E 


50 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


of allowing their impulses to govern them upon all occa- 
sions.’ 

‘ And I like men who are able to govern circum- 
stances, and who are not so weak as to be governed by 
them, drifting with the tide into situations where they 
never would have drifted had they but chosen at the right 
moment to give two or three resolute strokes of the oar.’ 

‘ I thought you were a believer in destiny.’ 

‘ In destiny ? — no. In Providence ? — yes. But “ God 
helps those who help themselves,” and when mortals have 
acted to the best of their ability, working for some good 
end, and not for an evil one, good is sure to follow sooner 
or later. Your friend may have acted from a mistaken 
sense of duty, but the very fact that he did act from 
that sense is an assurance that he has made no mistake.’ 

1 1 trust that you, Miss Lee, will never make a mis- 
take so fatal to your happiness in this life, as to convince 
you that your faith in Providence has been misplaced. 
The God in whom I believe has made us all free agents, 
to work out our own happiness or misery as we will ; and 
having placed this power in our hands. He never interferes 
to do away with the consequences of our errors.’ 

‘ This is a subject that admits of no reasoning, no 
explanations ; but as I look upon life, my conviction of 
my own existence is not stronger than is my belief in 
this rendering of a passage from Scripture — “ All things 
work together for good to those who work for good.” 
The promise is not given to the man who folds his hands 
and says, “ Destiny must be accomplished, thou canst 
do nothing, thou canst only sit still, and not shrink away 
from it but to him who works for the accomplishment 
of his aims and ends. Did you ever come across this 
grand old Catholic hymn ? — 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


51 


God’s justice is a bed, where we 
Our anxious hearts may lay, 

And weary with ourselves may sleep 
Our discontent away. 

For right is right since God is God, 

And right the day must win ; 

To doubt would be disloyalty, 

To falter would be sin. 

Roman Catholics seem never to forget what our Saviour 
died for — what, in fact, He lived for — was sent into the 
world for, namely, to teach us submission to the will of 
God/ 

4 1 cannot see God’s will in any rash acts of our own ; 
if I could, I would soon learn the lesson of submission. 
A man’s life seems to me to be made up of a series of 
perpetual blunders ; and just as he arrives at an age to 
profit by his experiences and become wiser, his mental 
and bodily powers fail him, or else the end comes, and 
he dies like the worm that he is.’ 

* Do not say that ! There is no end : we are immortal.’ 

4 1 do not dispute that. I wish that I could, if there 
is to be for any of God’s creatures an immortality of 
suffering.’ 

‘ But you do not believe in any such dogma : you 
cannot be so unjust to our Creator. You must know 
that although we are punished for our sins, punishment 
is of a reformatory and not of a vindictive character. If 
it were eternal, what end would be gained ? ’ 

‘ I was not touching upon that question — too mon- 
strous to entertain — that of everlasting punishment. I 
could not conceive a God so merciless, so wanting in all the 
attributes of a father ; but believing as 1 do, that when 
the end comes to us here it is but the beginning of an 
advanced stage of our being, a stage of progress still, in 


52 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


which we are not sure of any immunity from suffering — 
where, for aught that we know, our discipline may par- 
take of the same nature that it does in this life — “ left 
blind upon the rocks to choose the right path from the 
wrong,” as we are here, I, for my part, have of late often 
wished that I were not immortal.’ 

What an unutterable sadness settled upon Carroll 
Tracey’s face as he said these words ! He continued, 

‘ When one has drifted into the darkest night of an 
ice-bound Polar sea for want of the few resolute strokes, 
which you spoke of, that might have guided his barque 
into a tropical bay, one has fears that the beyond may 
also have dark and wintry seas, as well as summery 
havens.’ 

‘ It hath not entered into the heart of man to con- 
ceive what God hath in store for them that love Him,’ 
quoted Agatha in reply, her fine eyes beaming with the 
zealous faith in her heart. 

‘ But it has entered into the heart of man to conceive 
and to promise just what he desires that life to be : one 
of rest and ease, streets of gold, gates of pearl, walls of 
jacinth. He has pictured the material where all is imma- 
terial. We know no more of the life to come than we 
know from day to day here what our lives will unfold 
to us.’ 

‘ But we do know,’ answered Agatha, her face lighted 
by the inspiration within — a very prophetess, she 
seemed, as her kindling soul looked out of her eyes — 
‘ but we do know that, whether here or there, we are in 
the hands of One whom we can trust, even if we cannot 
see whither our footsteps tend ; and though I do not know 
your friend, from what you have told me, I feel that 
however fatal he may consider his mistake, if he waits 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


53 


and trusts, he will find some day that it was only an evil 
permitted in order to bring to him some great good — 
perhaps the greatest blessing of his life, as I have before 
said.’ 

Carroll Tracey could not resist the impulse that came 
to him to lift Agatha’s hand to his lips tenderly, reveren- 
tially almost, saying as he did so, 

‘ He will wait , and trust.’ 


54 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Colonel Potten had entirely ceased his visits at 
Mr. Lee’s villa after paying his call upon Mr. and Mrs. 
Tracey, and introducing his friend to Miss Lee in proper 
form. He found no difficulty in believing that friend’s 
assurance that it was not at all necessary that he should 
do violence to his inclinations and accompany him in his 
frequent visits, as Miss Lee and Carroll Tracey were as 
well mated in their tastes and pursuits as were he and 
Mrs. Tracey. Never suspecting any weakness upon the 
part of Colonel Potten for 4 the saint,’ as he always called 
Agatha, he often sent shafts that would have been cruel 
ones had he known the state of his friend’s feelings. 

4 No, old fellow, you are far better off at home with 
your books and your cigars than you would be trying to 
do the civil to people who just now have no thoughts for 
anyone but themselves. If you feel any interest, however, 
as to the result, I don’t mind making a bet with you as 
to which succeeds first, Tracey or myself. As I look at 
it, it is about half a dozen of one and six of the other.’ 

4 If I were to make any wager where the honour of 
women is concerned, it would be that my neighbour and 
friend, Miss Lee, is fully competent to take such care of 
her own honour that no man who possessed any would 
seek to cast a slur upon it/ said Colonel Potten angrily. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


55 


* Have it as you choose, but I beg of you, do not 
make a grizzly bear of yourself/ was Paul Howard’s only 
answer. 

Upon the day of the conversation narrated in the last, 
chapter he returned home in a state of unwonted ex- 
hilaration after a long walk on the cliffs with Mrs. Tracey. 
Colonel Potten, sitting in his library in a listless, moody 
frame of mind, heard him whistling the air of the song 
‘ She is mine, she is mine,’ as he crossed the strip of lawn 
that lay between the house and the boundary hedge of 
the property. As he opened the hall door his mellow 
voice broke out into the words, and never before had 
he sung them in such glad, exultant, triumphant tones. 

‘ I have not heard that song for the last ten days. 
You were always humming it or whistling it before,’ 
said Colonel Potten, roused from his reverie. 

‘ I have had a fit of the blue-devils for just that time. 
The rascals never stuck by me so long in my life before ; 
but it is always darkest just before day, you know,’ 
answered Howard, throwing himself full length upon the 
yielding, couch-like lounge. 

‘ You were born under a lucky star. There is a 
devilish sight more in luck than in brains.’ 

* Do you think me wanting in that commodity ? ’ 

‘ By no means ; but let a man have ever so much, 
and he might as well go and hang himself, as far as any 
successes with women are concerned, if his star is not 
propitious.’ 

Howard surveyed complacently his well-shaped foot 
as he answered, ‘ I flatter myself that I do not owe 
everything to my star ; that I possess some attractions 
in myself. I am not badly made. I stand six feet 
lacking one inch (when I wear my highest heeled boots), 


56 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


and I have seen men with less distinguished faces than 
the one I own.’ 

Colonel Potten glanced at the physically superb man 
stretched out on the lounge before him. The Apollo 
head, set on a neck and shoulders worthy of it, was half 
buried in the garnet velvet cushion, against which his 
hair fell back from a forehead as white as ivory — black 
hair with shades of red flickering through it, such as 
artists love to paint ; long reddish-brown lashes, and 
eyes that, in the reflected light of the blazing cannel 
coal, were velvety and glowing as those of a panther 
about to spring upon his prey. The soft, silken 
moustache was almost blonde, but with the same reddish 
hue warming it, coaxed back to reveal the sensuous 
mouth. The nose, chin, and cheeks were well cut, and 
of marble texture. Taking him all in all, there were few 
men his equal in personal attractions, not the least of 
which, in the eyes of some, were his rollicking ways, as 
well as the enchanting voice, which was fully as musical 
in conversation as in song. 

‘ The gods were not niggardly in their gifts to you, 
it is true ; but had you not been born under a lucky 
star, I still contend they would have been. Fate and 
Luck have it all their own way in this world/ said 
Colonel Potten, after making an inventory in his mind 
of his friend’s striking points. 

‘Well, when my star bestows a fortune upon me, I 
shall believe in it — not before. By Jove ! if I had money, 
my course would be clear.’ 

‘That is what everyone thinks who has not got it ; 
but I do not find that those who have it see their way 
any better than those who are not burdened with this 
world’s goods.’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


57 


4 Well, I don’t mind telling you what I would do, 
if I were blessed with a fortune. I say, old fellow, I 
wish you wouldn’t fire up so whenever I speak of “ the 
saint.” She may have been all ice and snow to other 
men, but I have seen a light in her eyes when she talks 
to Tracey that proves she is not ice to him. How long 
have they known each other ? ’ 

* How should I know ? ’ answered Colonel Potten, 
seizing the poker, and making vigorous thrusts at the 
blazing coal, which sent showers of sparks up the chimney. 

‘ If Mrs. Tracey had the faintest touch of jealousy, 
it would help my cause ; but, unfortunately, she has 
not. Things have got to such a pass, that morning, 
noon, and night they sit in the library — never even 
looking into the music-room — professedly occupied with 
a translation ; but I feel sure there is more at the 
bottom than shows at the surface. Still waters run 
deep, you know.’ 

‘ Yes, and shallow waters are always babbling ones. 
You don’t know what you are talking about. If Tracey 
had an atom of heart, which by the way he was never 
accused of possessing — for we were at the University 
together, and I knew him well — he would not waste it 
on a woman who laughs at all lovers, and who never 
goes beyond friendship with any man. I would like to 
see him, a married man, make love to her, with her 
strait-laced ideas ! Besides, Tracey himself is a model 
of propriety. Who ever heard of his being involved 
with any woman ? You might almost say he never looks 
at one. Why, he has no eyes for his wife even.’ 

4 Well, that last argument is conclusive, I admit ; and 
yet there have been cases within the memory of man in 
which men with pretty wives noticed those of their 


58 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


neighbours more than their own. Possibly, as you say 
Platonic love is Saint Agatha's hobby, their ambition is 
to set the world an example of a genuine attachment of 
that sort/ 

'Which, within equal possibility, you and Mrs. Tracey 
will take much pleasure in following/ 

' That is the unkindest cut of all ! What have I ever 
done to make you think so badly of me ? Platonic love, 
indeed ! — Platonic humbug, I should say. There is no 
such thing in this world ; and I have not so poor an 
opinion of the next as to fancy it may exist there/ 

'You forget Chateaubriand and Madame Rdcamier, 
Madame de Sevigne and her friendships, and all the 
other Platonic attachments recorded in biographies and 
memoirs/ 

‘ Yes, Abelard and Heloise, and all : all of the same 
sort in my eyes. Do you suppose that all this twaddle 
about friendship was for any other purpose than to mis- 
lead, or that those French bas-bleus disclosed their real 
sentiments in their letters any more than we do in our 
letters in this generation ? We all wear masks, and all 
of us are in solemn earnest in our efforts to obey the 
eleventh commandment — ' Be sure that your sins do not 
find you out * — however much we may disregard the other 
ten. I find the world of society divided into two classes, 
the humanely virtuous, and the rigidly virtuous, and all 
my experience goes to show that the latter class includes 
the worst sinners in their ranks/ 

' Then you must class yourself with the rigidly vir- 
tuous/ 

' By no means. I am no hypocrite ; nor am I more 
severe upon the failings of others than upon my own. I 
bestow upon all who need it the charity that I require 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


59 


myself, which no rigidly virtuous person, in the sense I 
use the words, ever does. No, I belong to the humanely 
virtuous class. Do you remember that old French 
colonel who used to regale us with his affairs of the 
heart, and how cleverly he put the case for Madame 
Recamier ? * 

‘Yes, and I remember how you “brought the house 
down ” one night in Merryvole’s tent, by saying that no 
man believed in Platonic love excepting querulous old 
men like Chateaubriand, who were too old to be capable 
of any other. You hit the old fellow hard, for he prided 
himself upon his love affairs.’ 

‘ He used to quote, “ Love knows no difference be- 
tween May and December;” but the truth is, there is 
more of the ludicrous than the heroic to me in the loves 
of the children of men who have turned forty.’ 

‘ Spare me,’ said Colonel Potten. ‘ Not that I intend 
to make a dolt of myself at present, but may I be shot 
if I do not believe I am capable of a stronger passion at 
my age than I ever was before, and I have passed forty. 
Did you find the little woman more gracious to-day that 
you came home in such high spirits ?’ 

‘ Well, I have no reason to be discouraged ; at the 
same time I cannot say much as to my success. I dare 
say I should not have gained an iota, however, if I had 
not changed my tactics, and threatened to drown myself 
out of sheer despair at her prolonged coldness.’ 

‘You do not tell me that she was deluded by such a 
worn-out ruse.’ 

‘ It was no ruse. I was so much in earnest, that I felt 
just in the mood for doing it. I generally am in earnest 
at the time, whatever I may say ; it is the only way to 
carry conviction with you. But then no weather-vane 


60 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


ever changed more frequently than I change my inten- 
tions.’ 

4 No, and your loves also. I pity the woman you 
marry.’ 

‘ Keep your pity, my friend, for me, when I become 
such a fool as to marry. How any man in his senses can 
tie himself to one woman — not that I mean confine him- 
self to one — but how he can bind himself to confer upon 
any woman the privilege of calling him to account for 
all his intrigues and affairs with others, is more than I 
can comprehend.’ 

‘You would marry Mrs. Tracey to-morrow, if she 
were free to marry you.’ 

‘ Would I ? I would see her in heaven first.’ 

‘ Then you are a colder-blooded wretch than I thought.’ 

‘On the contrary, it is just because I am not cold- 
blooded, that I would spare her the fate of being so 
miserable as I should be sure to make any woman who 
was my wife. But I will tell you what I would do if I 
were a rich man. I would run away with her, if I could 
persuade her to an elopement ; and she is the first 
woman I have ever seen for whom I have had such a 
temptation as that.’ 

‘ While you are my guest, I expect you to conduct 
yourself like a gentleman, and not like a scoundrel,’ said 
Colonel Potten, emphasising the last word. 

‘ I assure you I am obliged to do so. I cannot afford to 
be a scoundrel, although, between you and me and our 
Maker, I believe in His sight that man is the greater 

scoundrel of the two who But never mind what I 

believe, I shall not forget the duty that I owe to society 
and its eleventh commandment.’ He spoke seriously 
now, adding after a moment’s pause, ‘ If we had met 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


61 


before she was a married woman, and I had possessed an 
income sufficient to marry upon, then it might have been 
a question of marriage between us ; but as it is, there is 
no possibility of that now, and there never will be. If 
she wished for a divorce, she could not get one. Her hus- 
band is perfectly true to her ; he is in no way tyrannical, 
he is even indulgent. She could not plead incompatibility 
of temper, since they never disagree; but I ask you, 
what hell could be worse for a heart throbbing with 
warmth and life than to find itself chained to a cold and 
pulseless one — a living body bound to a corpse ?’ 

‘Mrs. Tracey has evidently taken you into her con- 
fidence. I think those are matters that should be held 
sacred between husband and wife/ 

6 Mrs. Tracey has never even alluded to any of her 
experiences to me. I know only what I have seen for 
myself, and what all the world knows — that she is an un- 
loved wife.’ 

* And 1/ answered Colonel Potten, fi have had occa- 
sion to remark before that all the world generally 
knows more about us than we know of ourselves. I 
dare say if Mr. Tracey were informed of the existing 
state of things between himself and Mrs. Tracey, as 
represented, he would feel pretty much as a man 
would feel who without any previous warning sees a 
bombshell drop through his roof. I do not credit the 
fictions that are always in circulation concerning persons 
of any social consequence whatever. Tracey has the 
misfortune to be both handsome and rich, as well as 
talented. His wife is as wonderfully gifted in song as in 
beauty ; the women cannot forgive her that their hus- 
bands and lovers find her so attractive, and hence they 
take their revenge by gossiping about her. This is my 


62 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


explanation of the reports that every now and then reach 
me. I confess, however, that were I in his place I would 
let literature go to the dogs, and look after my wife a 
little more. There is nothing more dangerous to a 
woman’s peace of mind than to feel herself neglected, and 
to find sympathy in one whose tastes are congenial to 
her own. You are both passionately fond of music, 
Tracey is most certainly entirely absorbed in his transla- 
tion just now, or he would see the danger of throwing 
his wife into such constant and close companionship with 
a man who is said to be unprincipled in all his affairs 
with women.’ 

‘ Come, come, be fair with me ; don’t believe what the 
world says of me, because I am unfortunately the envy 
of my sex. Have you ever known me to behave dis- 
honourably towards any woman ? ’ 

‘No, I never have. The greatest fault that you pos- 
sess in my eyes is that you talk too much about your 
affairs. Not that you ever reveal anything which honour 
bids you to conceal ; but according to my ideas, if a man 
has any affair in hand, the woman’s name should never 
pass his lips ; and when it is ended, he should never 
allude to her but in praise.’ 

‘ That would depend upon how it ended, according 
to my way of thinking,’ said Howard, with a mean- 
ing laugh; ‘and certainly, if you avoid mentioning a 
woman’s name whom you have been in the habit of com- 
menting upon, no better ground for suspicion could be 
given, I am sure. By the way, I heard this morning that 
Mrs. Rivers’s dinner is to be given for Miss Penn, with 
whom I had that little flirtation last year, and that she is 
trying to bring about a match between her and her 
nephew, Atherton. Think of handing over a girl of such 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


63 


talents as she possesses to a half-witted chimpanzee like 
Atherton. Ugh ! it gives one a chill/ 

‘ It is a lucky thing that you spoke of the dinner. 
I had entirely forgotten it. The coup£ will be around in 
an hour, which is as short a time, I fancy, as an exquisite 
like yourself could get himself up for a dinner.’ 

i Hang five o’clock dinners ; one can never get up any 
appetite so early in the day/ was Howard’s only answer 
as he left the room. 


64 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 

vv 


CHAPTER VII 

At a quarter before five the coupe was at the door, it 
was fully a fifteen minutes’ drive, and Colonel Potten was 
too well-bred a man not to time it so as to arrive on the 
stroke of the hour designated. In another quarter of an 
hour the invited guests were all assembled, and dinner 
was announced. It now became evident that the dinner 
was not given for Miss Penn, but for Mrs. Mordaunt, 
of Boston, who was staying with them, as she was 
taken out by Mr. Rivers and was seated upon his right. 
Carroll Tracey, by virtue of his literary reputation, 
had the honour of taking his hostess into the dining- 
room, and on his right was a Miss Lennox, of New 
York, who had dabbled in literature as an amateur, and 
not unsuccessfully. If Colonel Potten was as well 
pleased to be also seated next to Miss Lennox as 
she was to have him so seated, the success of the dinner, 
as far as they were concerned, was assured ; for she had 
never quite recovered from a certain weakness which 
she had for him in the earliest days of her maiden- 
hood. Paul Howard was well satisfied with his seat 
at table, for fate (or Mrs. Rivers) had placed him be- 
tween Mrs. Carroll Tracey and Miss Latimer, a niece 
of the host, who was sprightly and pretty, as well as an 
old acquaintance. If congenial, such qualifications go 
far towards insuring a pleasant time at a dinner, whereas, 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


65 


if one finds himself or herself seated next to an entire 
stranger, one is apt to feel like a second Columbus start- 
ing out upon an unknown voyage. The dinner party 
was not a large one. The young lady previously spoken 
of, Miss Penn of Philadelphia, who was neither pretty 
nor plain, having made an equally narrow escape from 
either of these extremes, was seated between Mr. Jen- 
kins, a New York swell, whose resemblance to ‘ Count 
Fosco * was so striking that he often went by that name, 
and Mr. Atherton, a wealthy Boston bachelor, whom 
rumour had fixed upon as a suitor for Miss Penn’s hand. 
Miss Penn was rusticating with a widowed aunt (who 
never appeared in society) after a summer of gaiety at 
Sharon and Long Branch, where, despite her being no 
beauty, she had been called the belle of the season. 
This was a sufficient reason for Mr. Jenkins to play the 
part of a devoted lover, for his devotions were always re- 
served for belles, both married and single. Miss Penn, 
thus finding herself between two fires, set herself to work 
to make the most of each of them. 

‘ How lovely in Mrs. Rivers to have given me this 
seat !’ she said to Mr. Atherton, looking up into his face, 
her blue eyes full of the tender sentiment, he thought, as 
he returned the glance, and gave free expression to his 
approbation of Mrs. Rivers’s arrangement of her guests ; 
but dinner was not half over before she had said to Mr. 
Jenkins with a sigh of weariness, 

‘ What am I to do with this bore ? Take compassion 
upon me, I beg of you, and do not leave me to his mer- 
cies, which are tenderer than this filet even, tender as it 
is. I hope that you are not a worshipper at the shrine 
of Saint Agatha, and that Mr. Bartholomew is ; for then 
he will monopolise her, and you will have to devote your- 
- F 


66 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


self to me, or to your dinner. If I know you, you are 
quite capable of doing both/ 

Mr. Jenkins looked very solemn; that is to say, as 
much so as a man with so very round a face and rotund a 
figure could look. 

< Did you ever know of a man in love having any 
appetite for his dinner?’ he said. 

‘ How charming ! Are you really in love ? How 
good in you to make me your confidente ! Some mar- 
ried woman, I dare say ; as it has quite gone out of 
fashion for young men to fall in love with unmarried 
ones.’ 

‘ She is not married yet ; but rumour says that she 
soon will be and having given utterance to these words 
he drew a long sigh, and looked so meaningly into Miss 
Penn’s eyes that she was not left in doubt as to the one 
he wished her to think was the object of his concealed 
passion. 

4 True love never did run smoothly, you know ; there 
must be anxieties and crosses, and all sorts of perplexi- 
ties, but if it be true love, and those who indulge in it 
are true to themselves, it is quite sure to come out right 
in the end, is it not ?’ Miss Penn looked artlessly un- 
conscious and sympathetic as she said these words. 

‘ Ah, but when the love is all on one side, how then ?’ 

‘ But love begets love, you know. There is no disease 
in the world so contagious as love, I fancy.’ 

4 1 wish I could think so, but my experience has been 
that while some natures are quick to take infection, 
others remain proof against it, no matter how often they 
are exposed.’ 

* Then, when such natures do yield to the contagion, 
I dare say there would be a life and death struggle. I 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


67 


am thankful I do not belong to that class, for I have 
always taken contagious diseases so readily, that I have 
gotten over everything just as easily, from hooping- 
cough to scarlet fever.’ Miss Penn’s arch smile seemed 
to mock the pathetic eyes that Mr. Jenkins had fastened 
upon her. ‘ Apropos de bottes ,’ she continued, ‘ how did 
Miss Lee acquire the name of Saint Agatha ? ’ 

* I assure you the question is quite d propos ; it is just 
because she has escaped all contagion that it has been 
given to her. I cannot go into particulars now, as we 
should be sure to be overheard ; but she is one of the 
most unimpressionable of beings, and 1 fancy some one 
of her numerous rejected lovers has given her that name. 
Certainly, I would as soon think of making love to a 
saint as to her, so cold and unsympathetic have I always 
found her.’ 

‘ Are you in the habit of making love to old maids ? ’ 
asked Miss Penn, who, scarcely eighteen, looked upon 
Agatha as already belonging to the sisterhood. 

* Not when younger maidens are within reach ; 
though when a man finds a woman congenial, he does 
not always stop to look up family records and get at 
her age, does he ? ’ 

‘ But he ought to, if he has any serious intentions : 
for of all pitiable things, I think the most pitiable is to 
see a young man so in love with a woman very much 
older than himself that he is willing to ignore all such 
difference and marry her. He brands himself with the 
words “ taken in ; ” and no matter how agreeable, how at- 
tractive he may be, or how noble a character he may have, 
he is regarded as an object of pity, and will be so long as 
the woman lives. Any woman who really and truly loved 


68 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


a man, and had the sense to know how such marriages 
always end, would never accept such a sacrifice/ 

‘ You speak warmly and feelingly/ 

‘ I have reason so to speak. My brother married a 
woman old enough to be his mother, and insists upon it 
that love is no respecter of age as well as no respecter of 
persons. When his infatuation is over, he will awaken to 
the inevitable consequences/ 

At this moment Mr. Atherton, who had become 
restive under the absence of all attention, ventured to 
remind Miss Penn of his existence, by asking when she 
expected to return home. 

‘ I have no expectations for the future ; I live only in 
the present/ she answered; a little dash of impatience 
at the interruption manifest in her voice. ‘ I am in no 
hurry to return, I can assure you/ 

‘ I am very glad to hear that, as it gives me the hope 
that you are not very much attached to Philadelphia as 
a place of residence/ remarked Mr. Atherton, looking 
thoroughly frightened at his own boldness when the 
words had escaped him. 

‘ I am not very much attached to any place of resi- 
dence. I often wish I had been born a gipsy, for then I 
could have gratified my roving propensities/ 

‘ But surely one need not be born a gipsy in order to 
do that. Don’t you think you would like to live in 
Boston ?’ 

4 1 am sure I should, if for no other reason than that 
its noble old commons would make such a charming 
place for a gipsy encampment/ 

‘ Don’t you think you would like to live in New 
York as well ?’ asked Mr. Jenkins. ‘ There is room in 
the park for several gipsy encampments/ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


69 


‘ Ah, New York is the Garden of Eden/ said Miss 
Penn enthusiastically. 

‘ That is refreshing, as all original ideas are. I have 
heard it called Sodom, but never the Garden of Eden 
before/ 

* New York the Garden of Eden !’ said Miss Lennox, 
who was vis-d-vis. ‘Pray tell me, Mr. Jenkins, if you 
know one striking difference that exists between New 
York and the Garden of Eden ?’ 

* Is that a conundrum ? because if it is I give it up. 
I never guessed a conundrum in my life/ he answered. 
‘ Pray enlighten me.’ 

‘ Willingly. In the Garden of Eden there was only 
one Adam, one Eve, and one serpent ; and in New York 
there is no end of Adams, Eves, and serpents/ 

‘ I don’t see it. Ton my honour I do not. Who 
dresses in fig-leaves now ? What man complains, or tells, 
if a woman does tempt him in these. days? As for ser- 
pents, out of Barnum’s museum you surely could not 
find a serpent in all New York/ answered Mr. Jenkins. 

‘ Rather trespassing on your grounds, Miss Lee/ re- 
marked Colonel Potten to Agatha. 

‘ My grounds are public property ; they belong to 
the age/ she answered. 

Miss Penn had already said, 

‘ I will qualify my words. I mean that New York is 
a Paradise ; and I am sure mortals are excusable if, like 
myself, they all wish to live in Paradise/ 

Mr. Atherton, whose face had brightened when Miss 
Penn had spoken so rapturously of Boston, was looking 
rather desponding again, as he mentally reviewed Mr. 
Jenkins’s chances in contrast with his own. Still he 
determined it should not be his fault if Boston were not 


70 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


properly appreciated, and at the first lull in the conver- 
sation, which had suddenly become general, he said, 
‘Boston has many advantages over New York, one of 
which is that its society is infinitely more select. I think 
you would like life there even better, if you were once 
to try it. There are all sorts of entertainments ; balls 
at Papanti’s, as well as those at private houses, dinners 
and receptions, charade parties, musicals, private theatri- 
cals, lectures, and * 

‘ Spare, oh spare me the lectures ! ’ exclaimed Miss 
Penn, interrupting the catalogue. ‘There is no end of 
lectures in Philadelphia, although I never attend them, 
for I get quite as many as I am able to endure at home ; 
but, Mr. Atherton, when I go to Boston I shall certainly 
engage you as a cicerone for everything but the lec- 
tures.’ 

Perfectly oblivious of the twinkle in Miss Penn’s eyes, 
Mr. Atherton answered, ‘ If you would only remember 
that promise, what pleasure it would give me to show 
you my capabilities in that line ! Our drives, too ! we 
have splendid roads to bowl over ; I hope you like both 
riding and driving, Miss Penn.’ 

‘ I know of nothing that I enjoy more, unless it be 
dancing. What a pity you do not dance, Mr. Atherton ! 
But I dare say Boston men are too dignified. Their 
brains do not lie in their heels, as those of New York 
men are said to do.’ 

Mr. Atherton’s small, weak face expanded with the 
radiance that illuminated it at these words. He evi- 
dently considered his star in the ascendant. 

‘ I think we prefer the manlier sports of shooting 
and yachting,’ he answered gravely, never doubting 
that Miss Penn was serious. 

‘ But one cannot shoot, and yacht, and drive all the 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND > 


71 


time ; and dancing* comes in when all else in the way of 
amusement fails one. Now, here is Mr. Jenkins, who 
waltzes like a dream, and he will tell you that in the 
present state of society no other accomplishment goes 
so far. You must learn to dance, Mr. Atherton.’ 

‘ I shall learn ; oh, yes, I certainly shall learn ; that 
is if I can ; ’ suddenly remembering former attempts, 
in which he had not succeeded brilliantly, owing to de- 
ficiencies both in time and tune, phrenologically speak- 
ing. ‘ But my yacht and my horses have afforded me 
more pleasure than ball-room dissipations thus far in my 
life.’ 

‘ How cruel you are to devote yourself to that vol-au - 
vent after such an absorbing fashion ! ’ said Miss Penn, 
addressing Mr. Jenkins with one of her appealing looks 
for succour. 

‘ Appearances are frequently deceptive,’ he replied. 
* My mind was not upon the vol-au-vent, if it appeared 
to be. Not a word has escaped me, and my heart has 
been torn with anxiety as I have listened. There is not 
a shadow of a chance for a man like myself, whose 
“ brains lie in his heels,” and who possesses but the one 
accomplishment of dancing, against one who owns a 
yacht, horses, a house in Boston, and whose services as 
valet de place are, from his own account, invaluable.” 
This was said sotto voce. 

^ I did not say that you possessed but one accom- 
plishment, Mr. Jenkins; you go too far and too fast, 
like all New Yorkers. I am quite sure that, although 
you may be envied by many for your consummate skill 
in dancing, there are far more who envy you for another 
accomplishment that you possess, and which is in itself a 
sufficient proof that your brains are where they ought 
to be.’ 


72 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


‘I am lost in conjectures as to what other accom- 
plishment I have. I assure you that I know of no other. 
My education was sadly neglected ; I am not a good 
horseman ; I can’t even row a boat, to say nothing of 
sailing one. There is no chance for me, and I feel my- 
self growing desperate with the knowledge.’ 

* Do you rate your conversational powers at zero ? 
Others do not if you do. I would rather have for a 
companion a man who could amuse and interest me, 
than one possessing a category of accomplishments as 
long as Mr. Atherton’s pedigree, if he displayed his 
gifts to the wearying of all those who came within his 
reach, as men with accomplishments so often do. I 
wonder, by the way, that our friend has not yet touched 
upon his hobby.’ The last sentence was said in such a 
low tone that Mr. Atherton could not possibly have 
heard it, but, as if in reply to Miss Penn’s remark, he 
said at this moment, 

‘ I think your name is a historical one, Miss Penn, 
is it not ? ’ 

* We are not related to the Penns to whom you refer. 
My grandfather was a very plain old gentleman, who 
used to say that he had never had any distinguished re- 
lations ; but I think, had you ever seen him, you would 
have agreed with me in thinking that he did not need 
any to support his claims to consideration.’ Then turn- 
ing to Mr. Jenkins, she said, ‘ Never say that you have 
no accomplishments ; remember Dickens’s Uriah, and 
do not be too humble.’ 

Meantime others had taken up the merits and de- 
merits of Boston, New York, and Philadelphia society; 
and Miss Lennox had declared that in a recent visit to 
the latter city she had found private theatricals to be the 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


73 


principal amusement of the beau monde in public ; and in 
private, that of discussing the affairs of their neighbours. 

‘ How exciting life in Philadelphia must be ! ’ said 
Colonel Potten. ‘ I wonder you do not go over for a 
winter, Bartholomew ; you are so fond of excitement/ 

‘ I had enough of it one summer at that Hotel at 
Long Branch, where the elect of the Quaker city con- 
gregate ; but I owe a debt of gratitude to a charming 
little woman, who saved me from dying, and so I cherish 
grateful recollections of Philadelphia/ 

‘ What was your disease ? ’ asked Mr. Atherton, with 
an expression of the deepest interest. 

‘ Stupidity/ 

‘The charming little nurse, who was she? Some 
pretty young widow, I daresay/ said Colonel Potten. 

‘ No, not a widow ; but she would have been better 
off if she had been, for her husband, who was old enough 
to be her father, was a mauvais sujet / 

‘ But would you have been better off? That is of more 
interest to us,’ asked Paul Howard. 

‘ That must be ’6 5 wine that you are drinking, 
Howard. Take my advice, and let it be your last glass/ 

he answered. ‘ I was going to narrate ■’ 

‘ Listen ! Mr. Bartholomew is going to give us the 
particulars of his affair. I am sure they will be worth 
hearing/ 

‘ I am not in the habit of talking of my affairs when 
I have any,’ answered Mr. Bartholomew, rather pointedly ; 
‘ but in this instance there was no “ affair.” ’ 

‘ Mr. Atherton, you seem to be in the clouds/ said 
Mrs. Rivers, after making several ineffectual attempts to 
engage him in the animated conversation which those of 
her guests who were seated on the other side of her were 


74 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND 


indulging in ; while Mr. Rivers, at his end of the table, 
was holding forth in rather an oratorical style, with his 
nearest neighbours as listeners, occasionally bespeaking 
the attention of others by some remark addressed to them. 

Mr. Atherton protested that he was not in the clouds, 
and made amends for his remissness in bestowing his un- 
divided attention upon Mrs. Rivers, which left Miss Penn 
at liberty to be as devoted as she chose to Mr. Jenkins. 

‘ I maintain/ said Mr. Rivers, his voice rising to still 
higher tones, ‘ that it is no honour to be sent to Congress 
in these days ; and I leave it to you, Colonel Potten, if 
you were in Washington during the session, and a Con- 
gressman were to call upon you in your apartment, 
would you not lock your bureau drawers and your 
trunks before leaving him, in case you should be called 
out of the room during his visit ? ’ 

4 1 am not prepared to assent to that exactly ; but I 
agree with the diplomatist who said, “ Go out into the 
world, my son, and see what fools it is governed by,” ’ 
answered the Colonel. ‘You remember, perhaps, that 
some one of our statesmen was once taken by a cele- 
brated Englishman to Eton, where the boys were made 
to pass in review before them. “ Fine fellows ! ” said the 
American. “Yes,” answered his friend, “but how piti- 
able to think they are to grow up into paltry members of 
Parliament.” ’ 

4 I’ll wager my head that Mr. Rivers has been up for 
Congress and been defeated/ whispered Mr. Jenkins to 
Miss Penn. 

4 Make it your heart instead of your head, and I’ll 
accept the wager ; but, seriously speaking, is that the 
way men do ? I had no idea they were so much like 
women/ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


75 


Mr. Jenkins’s reply brought such a tender light into 
Miss Penn’s eyes as to betray that it was something very 
gallant. 

Mr. Rivers continued, as if in evidence against the 
truth of Mr. Jenkins’s assertion, 4 There is no office in 
the gift of the United States that I would hold ; not 
even that of President.’ 

4 Possibly you might be induced to reconsider that 
resolution, as Governor Jones was ; for I heard him say 
that he would not accept the nomination, before it was 
made,’ said Colonel Potten. 

‘ He only did accept it out of the purest patriotism,’ 
replied Mr. Rivers. 4 It was not for his interest, for he 
gave up a lucrative business at the demand of his State, 
feeling that his services were needed.’ 

4 Or the demand of his wife — which was it ? Pos- 
sibly she may have been more patriotic than her hus- 
band. I have heard that, although the Governor 
is fond of horses, and likes to hold the reins in his 
own hands, it is his wife who tells him which way to 
drive.’ 

4 Your remark, Colonel Potten, illustrates my mean- 
ing. Mrs. Jones has been publicly denounced as a virago, 
and no wife was ever less of one than she. I said I 
would not be the President, and this is just why I would 
not hold any office : everyone feels privileged to gossip 
privately about people who hold prominent positions ; 
but as long as they are only private citizens, their wives 
are free from newspaper attacks. Let them accept an 
office, and every editor who possesses the nature of a 
blackguard can disgrace his columns with assaults upon 
those who are dearer to a man than his own life ; sewing 
brpadcast falsehoods concerning them, which the rabble 


76 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


is but too glad to believe. Take my word for it, the 
Governor not only holds the reins, but he drives whatever 
road he wishes. Whenever I find anyone attacked in a 
public journal, I am always reminded of a remark made 
by a friend of mine : “ Let those who wish to escape 
censure and abuse, take some back road,” said he, “ for 
they can’t travel the main turnpike and escape it.” * 

‘I think Mrs. Jones might be reconciled to calumnies 
under the circumstances of her position,’ said Mr. Tracey. 
' Besides, calumnies never stick where there is nothing 
for them to rest upon ; they are blown away by the first 
breeze. Society must have its dish of gossip flavoured 
with piquant sauce, 'and it is a consolation to those 
who are thus served up to know that it is only persons 
of importance whose private affairs can be supposed to 
have any interest for the public.’ 

' Very true,’ replied Mr. Rivers. ( I remember hear- 
ing a story told of Mr. Bennett and some politician, 
which is to the point. He entered the office with 
eyes flashing indignation and demanded satisfaction 
for a column and a half of abuse that the Herald of 
the previous day contained concerning him. “ A col- 
umn and a half,” echoed Mr. Bennett, “ Why, sir, it is 
a proud man you ought to be this day: there are 
but few men in New York that my paper would devote 
a column and a half of space to.” ’ 

‘ I daresay the politician went away quite pacified,’ 
answered Mr. Tracey, 'though it is always wiser to 
exercise philosophy in behalf of others than where 
one’s own self is concerned. You know Swift said, 
that he had never known a man who did not enjoy 
the misfortunes of his friends, or at least bear them 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


77 


with calmness ; but a little virtuous indignation felt 
on behalf of others, instead of enjoyment of their dis- 
comfiture, would often save a repetition of the same ex- 
perience for ourselves, I have no doubt.' 

* Really, Mr. Tracey, you will not often find such an 
opportune moment to put all your fine sentiments into 
# use,' said Miss Penn. ‘Here’s Mr. Jenkins pointing his 
morals and adorning his tales with no end of illustrations 
at my expense, or rather, at the expense of the morals 
of the city of my birth. Have neither you nor Mr. 
Rivers one word to say in my behalf ? ’ 

‘ All that I can say, and I regret to say it,’ answered 
Mr. Tracey, ‘is, that if all that I heard of the morals of 
society in the Quaker city the year that I resided there, 
be true, it has no morals to speak of.’ 

Here Mr. Rivers interposed, feeling it to be his duty 
to say a few words in behalf of the home of one of his 
guests, and he remarked, ‘ Without doubt Philadelphia 
must be a very moral city, as the Quaker element so 
preponderates there. Which city do you suppose to be 
the most moral, Colonel Potten — New York, Boston, or 
Philadelphia ? ' 

‘ I suppose human nature to be the same everywhere, 
or, as a friend of mine once expressed it, man is pretty 
much the same scoundrel now that he was three thousand 
years ago, in the days of the patriarchs. In Boston 
married people call their flirtations “ affinities," and talk 
of “ a higher law ; ’’ in New York they do as they choose 
without making any excuses or explanations. I do not 
know much about Philadelphia, but if the people walk 
any straighter there, I daresay it is because their 


78 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


streets are so straight that they are compelled to ; or, in 
other words, because everyone there knows what every- 
one else is doing.’ 

4 What an inconvenient city to live in ! ’ remarked Mr. 
Jenkins. 4 Do you endorse Colonel Potten’s opinion, 
Miss Penn ? ’ 

‘ I go farther, and say that persons there not only know 
what everyone else is doing, but they know more about 
us than we know about ourselves. I could not begin to 
tell you how many times they have announced my en- 
gagement, although I assure you, confidentially, there is 
not a man there whom I would promise to marry even 
in sport.’ 

‘ Promise to marry in sport ! Is that one of the amuse- 
ments of Philadelphians ? How very naughty of you ! ’ 
said Mr. Jenkins, while Mr. Atherton found courage to 
whisper, * As I am not a Philadelphian, won’t you promise 
me, even if it is only in sport ? ’ 

* Certainly, upon one condition,’ she answered gaily. 

* And what is that condition ? Do not make it too 
hard for me, I beg of you ; ’ and Mr. Atherton looked 
quite elated at the progress he was making. 

‘ Oh, a very simple one, namely, that you will wait 
until I am ready to be married, and that if I see any- 
one in the meantime whom I like better, that you will 
let me break the engagement.’ 

4 Ah, but I hold you to your word ; you said one con- 
dition, and now you wish to make it two. No, I accept 
the first, I will wait until you are ready to be married, 
but I cannot promise to let you off under any circum- 
stances,’ he said, still speaking in low tones. 

They were all rising from the dinner table, when Mr. 
Atherton whispered to Mrs. Rivers, ‘You can announce 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


79 


my engagement. Miss Penn has promised to marry 
me/ 

4 Really ! you surprise me. Well, I congratulate you 
with all my heart. You have secured the belle of the 
season/ 

* Secured * was a bold word to use concerning Miss 
Penn ; but Mrs. Rivers never doubted that Mr. Ather- 
ton had spoken sincerely, and that his sixty thousand 
a year had proved irresistible, even with the owner as an 
incumbrance. 

< Mr. Atherton has given me permission to announce 
his engagement/ she said to Miss Penn, as they were 
taking their coffee in the drawing-room. 

Miss Penn replied, ‘ If you announce it you must be 
sure to mention the fact that he is only half engaged/ 

4 Only half engaged 1 how can that be ? ’ asked Mrs. 
Rivers. 

‘ Why, if he is engaged, I am not ! Certainly out of 
that you cannot make more than half an engagement/ 

Notwithstanding Miss Penn’s contradiction, the 
rumour took wings, as rumours have a way of doing, 
much to her amusement at first ; then to her annoyance 
for a time ; but in the end, apparently to her entire 
satisfaction ; for on her return to Philadelphia, she no 
longer denied the engagement, but received the con- 
gratulations of her friends with a smiling face, and was 
soon so engrossed with shopping and dress-makers as to 
make the inference a highly probable one that the mar- 
riage would not be long deferred. It was reported that 
her mamma had said to more than one person, ‘ You see 
what perseverance will accomplish ! Anna refused Mr. 
Atherton over and over again, but she has taken him at 
last/ And rumour also said that Miss Penn would not 


80 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


have taken him, rich as he was, had not her mamma 
pleaded in his behalf, at the same time that her hopes in 
another quarter were extinguished ; for Mr. Jenkins did 
not follow her to her home as he had promised to do ; 
and from more than one of her New York acquaintances 
she heard that he had become infatuated with a Cuban 
belie whose fortune equalled her beauty. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


81 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The day following that of Mrs. Rivers’s dinner, Agatha 
and Mr. Tracey were occupied with their translations in 
the library, when Mrs. Tracey looked in and said, 

'You are the most uncompanionable people I was 
ever shut up with in the dreary month of November. 
Do leave that horrid translation, and come and take a 
walk. Carroll, make Agatha come ; it is a sin and shame 
to allow her to tire herself out in your service every day, 
as she is doing.’ 

A troubled expression came over Mr. Tracey’s face, 
as he answered, ‘ You are quite right, Mildred. I dare- 
say Miss Lee does over-fatigue herself ; but it never oc- 
curred to me before, or I would not have been so selfish 
as to permit her to assist me so much.’ 

‘ I am not in the least fatigued,’ protested Agatha, 
looking up into Mr. Tracey’s face, and meeting the com- 
passionate eyes that were fastened upon her. For a 
moment she seemed embarrassed by the lurking tender- 
ness in the look that she encountered, and a soft, warm 
colour flew to her face, settling in crimson spots on either 
cheek, as, turning to Mrs. Tracey, she added, 

‘ I think myself, Millie, that you are abominably 
treated, but this translation is absorbing, and just now 
I am so interested in this chapter that I am finishing. 

G 


82 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


Won’t you sit down here with your book, and the instant 
that I reach the end I will go out for a walk ; and you 
will go with us, Mr. Tracey, will you not ? 9 

* I will go now, if you say so,’ he replied. 

‘ Will you ? Then, you go with Millie, and I will 
follow you in half an hour or so,’ she said eagerly. 

He shook his head. ‘ I am not so selfish as to leave 
you alone to finish my work.’ 

At this moment Paul Howard appeared on the piazza, 
and, crossing the length of it, entered the hall at the 
open door. As he approached, Mrs. Tracey exclaimed, 

‘ How fortunate ! I was just wishing for a preux 
chevalier , for these German-mad enthusiasts are so 
wrapped up in their translations that I could not prevail 
upon either of them to go down to the cliffs with me.’ 
She glanced back over her shoulder at Agatha and her 
husband, as she left the room, saying, ‘ I am heartily 
glad to be so independent of both of you. Mr. Howard 
will take charge of me, and prevent me from throwing 
myself into the sea in a fit of desperation, or despair, or 
some dreadful emotion brought on by your apathetic in- 
difference to me.’ 

How handsome she looked ! her laughing blue eyes 
fringed with long, dark lashes, roses upon her cheeks, and 
her lips parted just enough to disclose her dazzling teeth. 

Agatha kissed her hand to her, as she passed the 
library window leaning on Paul Howard’s arm. 

i How beautiful Millie is! I think she grows lovelier 
every day,’ said Agatha, arranging her papers to continue 
her writing. Receiving no reply, she looked in Mr. 
Tracey’s face, only to encounter the same serious gaze 
which had embarrassed her a few moments before. As 
their eyes met, by some irresistible impulse he reached 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


83 


forward and took one of her hands between both of his 
own ; so reverentially, as well as tenderly, that she made 
no effort to withdraw it. 

‘ Can you pardon me, Miss Lee, for having so 
thoughtlessly allowed you to weary yourself day after 
day over this work ? ’ 

‘ I assure you it has not wearied me. It has been the 
greatest pleasure to me ; indeed it has ! ’ answered Agatha, 
trying to retain her usual serenity, but finding it difficult 
with her heart fluttering, and her little hand trembling, 
like birds when first imprisoned. 

Mr. Tracey, who was entirely self-possessed, con- 
tinued gravely, ‘ It has been such a happiness to me, 
that I have never even thought of the injury it might be 
to you to sit so much over your writing, — you, who are 
entirely unused to confinement. , He lifted her hand to 
his lips before releasing it, and kissing it added, ‘ I must 
be less selfish in future.’ Then he resumed his writing. 

There was a new strange light in Agatha’s eyes as 
she bent over her papers. For the first time in her life 
the touch of another had sent the blood pulsating 
through her veins in magnetic waves. In vain she 
endeavoured to fasten her mind upon her translation, but 
after several ineffectual attempts she said laughingly, 

* Mildred has so broken in upon my abstraction as to 
make it impossible for me to concentrate my thoughts 
upon my work as before. I am not fit to write any more 
to-day, I see ; and I will run up and get my shawl and 
follow her.’ 

She had already started from her chair when Mr. 
Tracey detained her by saying, ‘ No, don’t go. We can 
afford a holiday. If you will stay, I will lay aside my 
writing, and finish telling you that little history, or 


84 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


romance, or whatever you choose to call it, that I com- 
menced the other day.’ 

4 Which is it really — a true history or a romance ? * 
asked Agatha. ‘ It cannot be both. It must be one or 
the other. I rather think it is a real experience, which 
one of your friends has confided to you ; and some day 
you will found a romance upon it, and become a novel 
writer, as well as a translator and a contributor to the 
serials/ 

God forbid I should ever publish such an experi- 
ence ! No, there is far too much reality in it. All that 
I have told you has happened ; and you must never for- 
get that you alone have been entrusted with a history 
which I could not have disclosed to you even, had I 
not concealed the actors in it by substituting assumed 
names/ 

‘You may trust me without any fear/ 

4 And I wish you would trust me in return, and allow 
me to be the friend that I feel myself capable of being 
to you ; or do you not believe in friendships between men 
and women ? * 

‘Not believe in them! My faith in immortality is 
not stronger. I believe most religiously in such friend- 
ships, and more than that, it has been the desire of my 
life to have such a friend. Certainly, I will trust you, Mr. 
Tracey, and I shall be proud of your friendship/ 

Agatha was in no way embarrassed now. She felt 
that the same attraction which he had exerted over her 
was in like manner felt by him ; and with perfect frank- 
ness she continued, after the short pause which he did 
not break, ‘You do not know how happy it makes me, 
Mr. Tracey, to have found such a friend at last, and one 
too who I need never fear will turn into a lover. I wanted 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


85 


you to like me because Mildred and I are such friends, and 
because I liked you the first moment that I saw you. 
Do you know, I think we are extremely alike in all our 
tastes and ways ? I have noticed it constantly.’ 

‘And so have I,’ said Mr. Tracey. ‘If we need 
any other evidence of the affinity that exists between 
us than our own consciousness of it, we have a very 
conclusive proof in the exactness of the two translations 
of the same passage that we made the other day ; 
have we not ? ’ 

‘ Yes, that was singular. We really have an affinity 
for each other ; and I am going to tell Mildred as soon 
as she comes home.’ 

‘ She would only laugh at us ; and when a true 
affinity exists, it is too sacred a thing to be trifled with. 
Do you know how rare, how very rare it is to meet with 
it in this life ? In the whole circle of my acquaintance 
I do not know one married couple that I think is so 
united.’ 

Agatha opened wide her eyes. ‘ Why, that is a 
dreadful thing to say,’ she said. ‘And if so many are 
mismatched in this world, I wonder if they will have to 
keep so in the next.’ 

Mr. Tracey, looking her full in the eyes, answered, 
‘ There , there will be neither marrying nor giving in 
marriage, for we shall be like the angels of God.’ 

‘ That passage never seemed to me so beautiful 
before,’ said Agatha. ‘“For we shall be like the angels 
of God,” ’ she repeated. 

‘ There are some women who are very like them 
here ; but no men, unless indeed we take the fallen 
angels into consideration,’ said Mr. Tracey. 

There was a pause in the conversation, Agatha 


86 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


tracing meaningless characters on a scrap of paper with 
her pen, and Mr. Tracey’s eyes following each movement 
of her beautifully formed white hand. His face showed 
no emotion, but Agatha’s was radiant with her calm, 
new happiness. 

Presently he said, ‘ 1 am glad we understand each 
other so soon, and that you have promised me that faith 
which is essential to such a friendship as ours must be. 
Affinity we will not call it, as that word has been so 
often misused and wrongly interpreted. Do you not 
remember the Earl of Orrery’s lines ?- — 

Friendship of all ties most binds the heart, 

And faith in friendship is the nobler part. 


You will think I am asking a great deal of you this 
morning when I tell you I have another request to 
make of you, Miss Lee.’ 

Agatha answered without the slightest hesitation, 
‘ I am more than sure there is nothing in this world you 
could ask me, that I should or could refuse you, Mr. 
Tracey.’ 

How full were Agatha’s eyes of the tender trust she 
had given ; how exalted and ennobled was the expres- 
sion of her attractive face ! In that moment she looked 
in very truth the saint they had jestingly called her ; for 
the countenance of no real or pictured saint had ever 
been transfused with a holier light. 

Mr. Tracey closed his eyes and leaned his head upon 
his hand for a moment, as if dazzled by its glory ; but 
before Agatha had time to wonder at his silence, after 
her earnest assurance that his request would not be 
denied, he said, 

i I wish permission to call you by your first name, 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


87 


for it requires constant effort with me not to do so ; and 
as my wife always calls you Agatha, will you not give 
me the same privilege, although I have known you well 
for such a short time ? * 

* Though it is but a short time, you do not seem like 
a new acquaintance, but like a very, very old friend. 
I was telling Mildred so only this morning. I hope 
in future you will never call me anything but Agatha.’ 

4 If I entertained the chimera of a pre-existence, 
I should say we had known each other in another state 
of being ; for I have the feeling that we are not such 
new friends as we appear to be. I once had a very 
vivid dream — many years ago — which made such an 
impression upon me that to this day the odour of some 
flowers, snatches of melodies, and certain scenes in 
nature bring it before me as distinctly as when I dreamed 
it. The first hour that I saw you, your face had the 
same effect upon me — your face and your voice; and 
now I feel quite sure that you were the heroine of that 
dream.’ 

4 Pray tell it to me. I should like so much to be 
a heroine, even in a dream.’ 

4 1 cannot now. Should the time ever come when 
I can, it would give me more pleasure to tell you than it 
possibly could give you to hear it ; so you must not 
think that I am merely trying to arouse your curiosity.’ 

Agatha was still drawing, and finding her sheet 
covered with the characters she had been tracing, turned 
it over, and found written on the blank side, 

Lift we our eyes to Heaven ! Love greets us thence 
Disrobed of all its earthly impotence ; 

Even human love — below still doomed to be 
Stronger than death, feebler than infancy. 


88 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


She read it twice, Mr. Tracey regarding her steadily as 
she did so. 

‘ How beautiful and how true ! * said Agatha. ‘ Is 
this a fragment from one of your poems, Mr. Tracey ? * 

6 No, I have read it somewhere, and it so haunted my 
memory that I wrote it down in a fit of abstraction 
after coming home from the dinner last evening.’ 

‘What a stupid dinner it was ! Colonel Potten is no 
favourite of mine, and Count Fosco, as we call Mr. 
Jenkins, always bores me with his gossip. I wonder 
that man is so popular : he is invited everywhere 
solely because he keeps himself posted concerning all 
that is going on, catering to that universal taste for 
scandal which distinguishes the especial set that he 
prides himself upon belonging to. Now, you were 
charmingly placed, Mr. Tracey, and without doubt found 
the dinner party a very agreeable one, for everything 
depends upon how one is seated.’ 

A quizzical glance escaped Mr. Tracey as he an- 
swered, ‘ If I had had the arranging of the seats 
I would not have been placed where I was. Mrs. Rivers, 
although the embodiment of American cleverness, is not 
as easy to interest or to lead into conversation as some 
women whom I have met ; but certainly, if there was any 
want of intellect upon one side of me, it was more than 
balanced by a superabundance on the other ; for Miss 
Lennox is really a clever woman in the English sense of 
the word.’ 

‘ How did you like Mrs. Mordaunt — the pretty 
widow for whom the dinner was given ? ’ 

‘ I had no opportunity of forming any opinion of 
her, as I had scarcely had myself presented before Mr. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


89 


Rivers joined us, and took me away to show me some 
rare old books in his possession/ 

‘ Have you not noticed what pleasure some hosts 
and hostesses take in breaking in upon the tetes-a-tetes 
of their guests, bringing up some third party to intro- 
duce, or dragging one away to be introduced just as he 
has begun thoroughly to enjoy himself : or, what is still 
worse, if they chance to be stupid, intruding themselves 
upon you at like inopportune times ? * 

4 Of course I have. Very few people understand the 
art of entertaining ; yet still I must confess to having a 
great deal of sympathy for the host and hostess, for the 
reason that still fewer persons thoroughly understand 
their duty as guests. It really never seems to enter the 
heads of many that they have anything to do but to 
amuse themselves/ 

‘ Which is all that should devolve upon a guest, 
I think : for necessarily, in amusing one’s self, one must 
contribute to the amusement of others. But what has 
led us so far away from our usual subjects of dis- 
course ? Are you not going to finish that romance that 
I was so interested in ? I should like so much to hear 
the end/ 

‘ It has never had an end, Agatha. God only knows 
what the end will be.’ He spoke slowly and sadly, she 
still tracing characters with her pen ; but when he called 
her ‘Agatha,’ she looked up and their eyes met. The 
radiant glance died out of her own as she encountered 
the despairing eyes of the man beside her, — despairing 
and agonised, as if life held no hope for him — no way of 
escape from the iron that had entered his soul. It was 
no physical anguish that had kindled that indescribable, 


90 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


lurid light. Only mental anguish has power to reveal 
such depths of suffering as Agatha saw in his hopeless 
eyes. Her strongly sympathetic nature was so worked 
upon by this sudden revealing of hidden agony, that, 
not knowing what she did, she seized his hand and carry- 
ing it to her lips pressed them passionately against it ; 
then frightened at herself fled from the room. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


91 


CHAPTER IX. 

WHEN Mrs. Tracey returned from her walk with Paul 
Howard she was surprised to find her husband making 
preparations to leave for New York by the night boat, 
proposing to her to follow at her leisure. However 
important the business which had so suddenly sum- 
moned him, she seemed to think it might be post- 
poned until the arrival of Agatha’s father and aunt, who 
were daily expected, and accordingly she exerted herself 
to persuade him to remain. It was of no avail, and 
before tea was announced his trunk was packed and 
brought down to the hall. At the last moment there 
was a little delay in the coming round of the carriage. 
As they stood around the library table, no longer 
littered with papers, but arranged as of old with its 
accustomed books and writing materials, Mr. Tracey 
said, 

‘ I want to thank you, Agatha, for all that you 
have done for me — more than you know. I am afraid that 
it will never be in my power to return your kindness.’ 

‘I assure you, Mr. Tracey, that the pleasure of the 
work repaid me. I have enjoyed every moment spent 
over our translations as I never enjoyed anything in life 
before. It is I who am indebted to you, for you have 
revealed to me my vocation. I shall end in becoming 
an authoress, I expect.’ 


92 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


* God forbid ! ’ he said earnestly. 

They heard the carriage approaching. Mr. Tracey 
made a hurried adieu, and the horse tore over the 
gravelled drive as if conscious that he had to atone for 
the groom’s slackness. 

Agatha felt a strange tightening at her heart as she 
went back to her chair by the library table. Mrs. Tracey 
looked blue, and felt so ; for there was something in her 
husband’s manner that impressed her with a sense of 
coming evil. 

‘ Really, I do not see why Carroll should have 
hurried off in this mysterious way. There is something 
more than we know at the bottom of it,’ remarked Mrs. 
T racey. 

‘ I feel sure that he must have some good reason for 
going, as well as for not telling us why he goes,’ Agatha 
replied. 

‘ His eyes had a troubled, anxious expression : did 
you not notice how unusually grave he looked ? ’ 

‘I think Mr. Tracey always looks grave: but I con- 
fess that I did fancy a pained look upon his face, as 
though he were in doubt or suspense about something ; 
yet I daresay it was all in our imagination.’ 

Mrs. Tracey shaded her eyes with her hand, looking 
downwards, and Agatha, with her head thrown back, 
looked up at the ceiling. Neither was inclined for 
conversation. At length Mrs. Tracey broke the silence. 

‘ Agatha,’ she said, ‘ I often wish I were dead.’ 

4 How can you be so wicked — you, who have so 
much to live for ? ’ 

A bitter smile passed over Mrs. Tracey’s face. 

‘ I, who have so much to live for ! ’ she repeated, 
enunciating each word separately. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


93 


‘ Yes, there are few men whom I have ever met who 
are so fitted to make home charming as your husband 
is. I cannot conceive why you, of all other women, 
should wish to die.' 

4 Then I will tell you why. Because I am tired of 
living for duty with nothing to inspire me with strength 
to bear my cross ; because I am tired of gathering 
thistles only, when I might have roses as well ; because 
I long for love, as every woman must who has tasted of 
the tree of life, but never more than tasted.’ 

Mrs. Tracey spoke with vehemence, and Agatha 
looked on with amazement, as she continued, 

‘ Anything would be better than the life I lead ; 
death a thousand times better. My husband gives me 
no confidence, and asks for none. He goes his way, 
and leaves me to go mine. Is this your idea of hap- 
piness in married life ? I might as well be chained to a 
marble statue.’ Again she covered her face with her 
hands, and tears trickled through her fingers. 

Agatha arose and stood over her, bending to kiss 
her upon her forehead. 

4 You are excited about your husband leaving you so 
suddenly — unnecessarily excited. You exaggerate the 
situation. To-morrow you will look at everything in a 
calmer way, and you will then regret what you have 
now said.’ 

Mrs. Tracey made a gesture of impatience, as if she 
despaired of making Agatha understand her, and 
wearily clasping her hands, said, 

‘Yes, I always regret it whenever any complaint 
passes my lips. I know that I have no right to com- 
plain. You are right ; I shall be calmer to-morrow, and 
everything will appear in a different light. What busi- 


94 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


ness have I with a heart ? It ought to have withered 
into ashes long ago.’ 

‘Why, Mildred, how wildly you talk to-night ! 
Don’t be so foolish about your husband. He will 
explain everything that now seems strange when he 
returns. There is the door-bell ! I will say we are 
engaged ; * and Agatha opened the door leading into the 
hall to give the order to the servant in passing. 

‘ If it is Paul Howard, I have promised to see him,’ 
said Mrs. Tracey, walking to the glass, and drying the 
tears with her gossamer handkerchief. 

It was he, and Mrs. Tracey joined him in the draw- 
ing-room, Agatha asking to be excused. She walked 
to the window and looked out. There was not a star 
visible, for the sky was completely overcast with clouds, 
and the darkness of the night was intense. Her thoughts 
dwelt but a few moments upon the singularity of 
Mildred’s words ; for they naturally brought to her 
mind how, but a few short weeks before, she had 
thought life not so very desirable herself. Now the 
halo of her new friendship made it seem so lovely, 
so beautiful. Thinking of her own happiness, her mind 
soon wandered away from Mildred’s rashly uttered and 
apparently unreasonable complaints. That afternoon, 
when she had so impulsively kissed Mr. Tracey’s 
hand, she had flown from the room, and going to her 
chamber, had, weeping tears of humiliation, fallen on 
her knees and prayed that she might not lose the 
respect and affection that had become so dear to her, 
by an act which seemed unmaidenly when the emotion 
which had called it forth had subsided. It agonised her 
to think how her intensely sympathetic nature might 
have been misunderstood. But now she knew that she 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


95 


had given herself unnecessary anxiety, for when Mr. 
Tracey had sought her, letter in hand, to inform her 
that he had received a summons which made his depar- 
ture that very night necessary, she had stammered out 
some words of explanation, and he, with the most 
respectful tenderness in his tones, had replied, 

* Do not pain me by such suspicions as your words 
imply : do not even finish what you are about to say. 
I know all that is in your heart now, as I have long 
known all its generosity and its purity. Where a friend- 
ship like ours exists, there must also exist unbounded 
trust. Let us trust each other implicitly. I could not 
misunderstand you ; and I pray God that I may never 
give you occasion to distrust me.’ 

His serious eyes were looking straight into her own, 
as he said these words ; and Agatha felt as though 
lifted up to the mossy peaks, which in her vision 
had seemed to touch the stars, as she recognised the 
same serene eyes that had beamed upon her then. 
From that moment her heart was at rest. She knew 
neither doubts nor fears. The friendship, which she had 
onged for and prayed for, had come to her at last. 

She turned from the window, and seated herself by 
the library table in the chair which Carroll Tracey had 
always occupied when writing. Leaning back in it, she 
fell into a reverie. Her eyes were closed, her red lips 
struck apart, as her heaving breath swayed to and fro 
the soft, undulating folds of her dress. The wind, 
rising without, filled the air with its weird whisperings, 
soothing her to repose ; the black darkness of the night 
seemed to have steeped her very brain; and in fancy 
there glowed through it in letters of flame the words, 
‘There, there will be neither marrying nor giving in 


96 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


marriage ; for we shall be like the angels of God. 1 From 
this dreamy mood she soon fell into a soft and dreamless 
slumber. 

Meantime Carroll Tracey had arrived at the dock 
just in time to see the boat move off, leaving a chasm 
which he had but to clear to reach it. Once he would 
not have hesitated to make the venture ; but his life 
had suddenly grown dear to him, enriched as it was by 
his new friendship. Making his way back to the point 
where he had left the carriage, he found it gone; and 
wrapping his overcoat more closely around him he pre- 
pared to breast the cold wind in the long walk that lay 
between him and Mr. Lee’s villa. It was quite late 
when he at last arrived ; but lights were still burning in 
many of the windows. He crossed the lawn, and looked 
in the library window ; he saw Agatha sleeping in his 
chair, a flood of light from the chandelier pouring down 
upon her face, which seemed to him, with its happy, 
tranquil expression, as if a halo surrounded it, vivid as 
those that Fra Angelico has left around the heads of his 
painted saints. Did he also discern there, the one red 
flame, that shoots from the foreheads of each of those 
martyrs, that he started back so soon, closing one hand 
over his eyes as if to shut out the vision ? Recovering 
himself, he walked to a window of the drawing-room. 
From between the parted curtains, a stream of light fell 
full upon him, as, white and motionless, he looked in 
with eager gaze. It was but for an instant ; and then 
he opened the sash and stood face to face with his wife, 
his face blazing with passion, just as Paul Howard 
closed the door after him that led out on the piazza 
from the other end of the room. 

For one long moment they looked steadily at each 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 97 

other, and then Mildred dropped back in her chair, and 
covering her face with both hands, wept. 

Carroll Tracey waited until the storm of passion that 
had agitated him upon his entrance was past, and then 
asked with forced calmness, 

‘ What does this mean ?’ 

Mildred’s sobs alone broke the silence, and again he 
asked, 

* What is the meaning of this scene that I have wit- 
nessed ? * Still there was no answer, but thicker came 
the sobs, and stung by his recollections, he broke out 
with the accusations that were in his thoughts. 

‘ I cannot bear this. It is too much,’ cried Mildred. 
4 You are unjust. I will tell you all that there is to tell ; 
but no, you would not believe me if I told you the 
truth. Think what you choose. I will not humiliate 
myself by an explanation which I know you will refuse 
to credit.’ 

4 You cannot humiliate yourself more in my sight 
than you already have done. I demand the explanation 
of you, if there is any, of such an unaccountable scene.’ 
His face was so stern, his tones so determined, that 
Mildred dared not refuse to answer any longer. Still 
covering her eyes she said, 

‘ He arose to go ; I arose also. Before I knew what 
he was doing he caught me around my waist with one 
arm, and with his other hand held my head back, kissing 
me over and over on my lips. I could not help it, I 
could not help it,’ she cried, weeping even more bitterly 
than before. Mr. Tracey turned and paced the room, his 
eyes cast down, his brows knit and lowering. 

He had been upon the eve of replying, ‘ You know, 
and I know, that Paul Howard, unprincipled though ho 
H 


98 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


be, would never have dared to take such a liberty had 
you not given him some encouragement ; ’ but he had 
checked himself, remembering how strong a temptation 
had once come over him to hold to his heart for one 
moment some one whom that heart held dear, yet from 
whom he had received no encouragement. He knew not 
what to say, he knew not what to think even. In the 
first days of his married life his wife had forfeited his 
confidence ; and yet, so just and so generous a man had 
he been, that he had preferred to be wronged himself, 
rather than to wrong her, after the explanation that she 
had then given of her seeming want of loyalty. 

To and fro he continued to pace the room. Perhaps 
half an hour or more passed before he again addressed 
her. Then he approached her, but she shuddered and 
drew away. 

4 You called me Messalina/ she said. 

4 1 did not know what I was saying, Mildred. When 
a man sees his wife in the arms of a libertine, and fancies 
she is returning his hot kisses, he does not stop to weigh 
his words. Blackguard ! I wish duelling was permitted/ 

Mrs. Tracey leaned forward, uncovering her tear- 
stained face. 

4 Carroll/ she said, ‘ promise me you will not touch 
him !’ 

‘ I make no promises. I would shoot him if I could ; 
as I cannot, I will horsewhip him/ 

‘You are talking again without weighing your words/ 
she answered, with gentle dignity. ‘ I care very little 
what befalls him, but I do care about my reputation, for 
your sake quite as much as for my own. I have never 
been talked about, and I beg you not to expose me to 
scandals that would surely be circulated if you were to 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


99 


have any words with Paul Howard. He would like no- 
thing better than to have you so couple his name with 
mine/ 

‘ If you knew him to be such a character, why have 
you allowed him to see so much of you ? ’ 

‘ I do not know why I have,’ she answered, again 
weeping. * I suppose because I was alone so much. You 
and Agatha were always occupied with your translations, 
and I sang with him, and walked with him, without 
thinking much about him in any way, excepting that he 
was an agreeable companion/ 

Mr. Tracey drew a chair near his wife, and there was 
a certain degree of tenderness in his looks and tones — 
a pitying tenderness, as he said, 

‘ I wish to take upon myself the blame of having ex- 
posed you to such a scene, while you still hold my 
honour in your keeping ; and also to confess that I have 
been guilty of moral cowardice in not having sooner 
offered to release you from all ties to me. A man shrinks 
from having his married life canvassed by the world, and 
this it is which has made me unjust to you. I see how 
wrong I have been, and I am thankful that it is not too 
late to atone for the error. You are at liberty to apply 
for a divorce from me on whatever ground you like ; I 
will bear the odium, and you shall be free to marry again. 
Only for your own sake I warn you not to marry that 
man whom I saw holding you in his arms to-night. You 
are young, your beauty has not yet passed its prime ; all 
I ask of you is to make a wiser choice than that man 
would be, whose loves change as the moon changes. I 
want your life to be happier than I have been able to 
make it ; for, Mildred, you put it out of my power to be 
to you the husband that I would have been, had I not 


100 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


discovered your love for another, and with it such revela- 
tions as no love could bear and remain unchanged. I 
have tried to atone to you as far as I could for the loss 
of that degree of love which is necessary to insure the 
complete happiness of married life ; but my own life has 
shown me that nothing can make up for that loss, and 
that the marriage tie is but mockery where no marriage 
of heart and soul exists/ 

Mildred, weeping silently, with her handkerchief 
pressed to her eyes, made no answer. 

Mr. Tracey continued, 1 Let us always think as 
kindly of each other as we can. I know how hard and 
cold I have seemed ; I could not be otherwise. I have 
been hard and cold with myself. The divorce shall be 
conducted as privately as is possible. When will you 
apply for it ? ’ 

*1 shall never apply for it. If you wish to be 
divorced, you must make the application. I shall not 
oppose it.’ 

She had ceased weeping, and was looking up straight 
into his eyes — her tear-stained face lovelier even than 
that of Rotari’s exquisite Magdalene, in which there is 
such a pathos of grief that those who have once seen it 
are haunted for ever after by its heart-broken sadness. 
For a moment or more Carroll Tracey regarded steadily 
the beautiful face turned towards him, his heart touched 
by the thoughts that crowded in upon him. Had he 
without just cause thrown the shadow of his coldness 
over the life of the woman who now refused to avail her- 
self of the opportunity he had offered her of a legal 
separation ? 

The clatter of a horse’s hoofs rang over the gravelled 
carriage drive, and changed into impatient pawings as 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


101 


the rider dismounted and rang the bell. Both distinctly 
heard the words, ' A telegram for Mr. Carroll Tracey/ 
as the servant opened the door. 

Going into the hall he took it from the messenger, 
and, tearing open the envelope, read it by the light of 
the hall lamp. 

When he returned to the drawing-room, Mildred 
asked, 'Is anything wrong?’ noticing as she spoke the 
deadly pallor of his face and the sorrow in his eyes. 

‘ No, nothing is wrong that comes from God. I 
should have been too late, even had I reached the boat. 
Agnes is dead.’ Drawing a letter from his pocket, he 
opened it, and handed it to her, saying, ‘ This is the 
letter that I received this afternoon from her husband.’ 

Mildred took it from him with trembling hands, and 
with a face as white as his own stood under the chande- 
lier and read, 

‘ Agnes is worse, and would like to see you as soon as 
you can make it convenient to come to the city. I do 
not apprehend any immediate danger, but I am anxious 
that her every wish shall be gratified ; and I beg that you 
will not allow your feelings towards me to prevent you 
from coming to my house. I will arrange it so that we 
shall not meet if you desire, but if you can overlook at 
this time whatever cause of grievance I have given you 
in the past, it will not be lost upon 

‘ Y our brother-in-law, 

'Harold Graham.’ 

Mildred stood motionless, except that her hands were 
trembling as she read, and her heart beating like a sledge- 
hammer. She felt as if she were in a dream, and some 
horrible nightmare had seized hold of her, stifling back 


102 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


the words of sympathy that were in her heart to say. 
Meantime Carroll Tracey stood watching her intently, 
and when she pressed one hand tightly over her heart 
as if the pain there was more than she could bear, he 
approached and led her to a seat. 

‘ I foresee the end. Agnes no longer stands between 
you, and you shall be free to become his wife,’ he said. 

Her answer was but a gesture, but as she turned her 
head away, and with one hand, palm outwards, deprecat- 
ingly shielded her face from him, it was as if she had 
said, * Spare me ! spare me ! I can bear no more ! ’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


103 


CHAPTER X. 

Agatha, aroused from her slumber by the noise made 
upon the arrival of the telegram, knew nothing of Mr. 
Tracey’s return ; and supposing Paul Howard to be still 
in the drawing-room with Mildred, awaited his departure 
before joining her. She lived over in memory all the in- 
cidents of the past weeks in which Carroll Tracey bore a 
part, dwelling the longest upon their last conversation. 
Suddenly, remembering the sheet of paper on which she 
had read the verse which so eloquently embodied her 
ideas of human friendship, she looked for it under the 
books that were lying upon the table. It was not there. 
She drew out one of the drawers in which several sheets 
lay loosely, some of them written upon. The first that 
she took up was a poem under the heading, 

AFFINITAT. 

Not ours upon Elysian seas to ride. 

Wafted by breezes spice-perfumed and soft, 

Seeking some harbour where our days may glide 
In fond endearments and in converse oft. 

Oceans as well might roll between us here — 

So wide apart our daily paths must lie ; 

Yet time nor distance could I ever fear, 

Where souls are knitted in so close a tie. 

Is there a haven where our paths will meet, 

While o’er us neither clouds nor storms shall lower. 

Where, though the moments pass howe’er so fleet, 

No shadows haunt them of the parting hour ? 


104 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


Ah, He who kindled in our hearts this flame — 

Pure as upon the vestal virgins’ shrines — 

Has taught me charity where others blame, 

And with this gift my inner life refines. 

He will, if faithful unto our dear trust, 

- So crown our lives with Love’s immortal bays, 

That chance, nor fate, nor laws both wise and just 
Shall mar the pleasure of our peaceful days. 

As Agatha read, her heart almost stood still. It was 
Carroll Tracey’s well-known handwriting, but was it a 
composition, or only a translation ? She knew not what 
to think. Again and again she read the poem, some sub- 
tle influence from it stealing deeper and deeper into her 
heart each time that she read it, until it was to her as 
though i her outward form was consumed as by a flash of 
lightning, and left her soul face to face with his soul;’ no 
longer needing his bodily presence, or the ministry of her 
own senses, for her mind to communicate with his, be- 
cause of its ‘ capability of seizing hold of the imperish- 
able, the eternal ’ that dwells within. Thus lifted up in 
her exaltation of soul, above and beyond the world, it 
was as if heaven opened and revealed itself to her. The 
paper lay upon the table before her, and folding her hands 
over it, she raised her eyes, as a saint might have done 
in some hour of ecstatic devotion. 

Later, when Carroll Tracey, after holding along con- 
versation with his wife, went out upon the piazza to walk 
off, as far as was possible, his excitement in the open air 
before going to the hotel, where he had ordered his lug- 
gage to be taken from the dock, he gave one more look 
through the library window as he passed. Memories of 
that serene, upturned face, of the holy light in the 
dreaming eyes, of the sweet smile of saintly happiness 
that lingered about the mouth, went with him to sustain 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


105 


and bless him in the dark hours that were to try his soul 
before its worth was tested. The closing of the hall 
door, followed as it speedily was by sounds of partially 
suppressed weeping, brought Agatha back to earth again. 
Supposing it to be Paul Howard who had left, she imme- 
diately went to the drawing-room, and there found Mil- 
dred in an agony of tears. 

4 What is the matter, Mildred ? ’ she exclaimed. 1 How 
you do frighten me! Do tell me what is the matter F 
And sitting down beside her, Agatha encircled Mildred’s 
waist with her arm, and tried to draw her head down upon 
her shoulder. 4 Has Paul Howard said anything to offend 
you ? I am sure he has. Tell me, Mildred, for pity’s 
sake tell me/ 

4 Oh, Agatha ! Agatha ! Agatha ! * was her only 
answer. 

‘ What has happened ? Mildred, try to compose your- 
self and tell me. You will surely be ill after this/ 

4 I wish I were ill. I wish I were dead F was her only 
answer. She was weeping more quietly now, and Agatha, 
waiting for the moment when, exhausted by her weeping, 
she should become sufficiently calm to speak with her of 
her trouble, recalled the history which Carroll Tracey had 
told her, and felt her suspicions deepening into convic- 
tions that he had been speaking of himself. But how 
could that be possible? Once more Agatha spoke, ‘Do 
at least tell me that Paul Howard has nothing to do 
with your trouble, whatever it is/ 

4 1 wish that I could tell you so/ she answered, sup- 
pressing her sobs, and really struggling to regain her con- 
trol over herself. ‘ I wish that I could, but it was he who 
has compromised me with Carroll. Tell me, Agatha, 
what would you have thought of me if you had found 


106 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


me in Paul Howard’s arms when you came into the 
room ? ’ 

‘What would I have thought? How can I even 
imagine what I would have thought, when I cannot con- 
ceive the possibility of your being in such a situation ? 
Mildred, what do you mean ? ’ asked Agatha, looking as 
horrified as she felt 

Long quivering sighs escaped Mildred, as with bent 
head, and eyes fixed on the carpet, she continued, ‘ I 
mean that Carroll found me in Paul Howard’s arms ; 
when too late for the boat he returned here, and that 
although I told him that I could not help it he did not 
believe me.’ A hard, stoical look had settled upon her 
face ; while upon Agatha’s was an expression of unbelief, 
as though she could not credit such a statement. 

‘You could not help it ! Surely, Mildred, you do not 
know what you are saying. But I am quite sure that, no 
matter how much appearances may be against you, your 
husband is too good and too just a man to wrong you 
by any unworthy suspicions. Do you really mean to 
say that Paul Howard dared to show you such an insult 
under my roof? Tell me how it happened.’ 

‘ He got up to go, and when I arose, he suddenly 
caught me in his arms, and, before I knew what he was 
doing, he had nearly smothered me with kisses on my 
mouth. Perhaps it was my fault, for he had been talk- 
ing to me as he had never talked before, and I was weak 
enough to listen, and foolish enough to try to reason 
with him for his folly. Agatha, I daresay even you 
would scarcely credit me if I were to tell you all that 
passed between us. You would at least say that I was 
not true to myself to allow him to say what he did ; but 
I like him so much, and I felt so sorry for him, and I was 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


107 


quite sure that I could show him his folly ; and the end 
is that Carroll and I are going to be divorced.’ r 

‘Divorced!’ echoed Agatha. ‘You cannot be di- 
vorced. What God hath joined together man cannot 
lawfully put asunder, save for one cause ; and you are 
both true to each other ; so you cannot be divorced.’ 

‘God did not join us together. I married Carroll 
Tracey, not for love, but to revenge myself upon another. 
Do you think God has anything to do with such mar- 
riages ? ’ 

‘ Mildred ! how horrible ! ’ 

‘ You may well say, “ How horrible ! ” Yes, I married 
him from pique, and before the first six months had passed 
he knew that it was so.’ 

Agatha remembered the history that he had un- 
folded to her, and knew now that it was his own. 
Shocked beyond power of expression, she could hardly 
restrain herself from withdrawing her hand, which clasped 
one of Mildred’s, but the sad face mutely pleaded for 
compassion ; and Agatha, touched by its wretchedness, 
said, ‘ Poor child ! how could you ever have done such 
an awful wrong to him, and to yourself?’ 

‘You may well ask the question. I do not know 
now how I could have done it ; but I did it remorse- 
lessly then, and without any compunction. I loved 
another, and that one, cool and cautious, weighed me in 
the balance, and found me wanting in the requisites for 
a wife that his judgment demanded. He never told me 
that he loved me, or that he was afraid to trust his 
happiness to my keeping ; yet I knew it, and, conscious 
of my influence over him, I thought in the end his love 
for me would overcome his fears. We were at an old- 
fashioned rural watering-place, and Carroll Tracey and 


108 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


his young sister were there. It amused me to see 
the jealousy that Carroll’s attentions awakened, and it 
flattered me that a man like Carroll should single me 
out and devote himself to me. All summer long I 
played one off against the other, and fancied that the 
one to whom he devoted himself was made use of as I 
made use of Carroll. One moonlight night a party of 
us went down to sit upon the rocks as we had often done 
before. Carroll and I took our seats rather apart from 
the rest. He whom I loved was sitting with the same 
young girl, also apart, but nearer us than the others. 
As low as they were speaking, the murmur of the waves 
could not drown his voice for my ear, and I heard him 
ask her to be his wife. I did not hear her answer, but 
I knew what it was ; and my heart ached at the thought 
that that child, that school-girl, was my rival ! — that 
she would be the wife of the man whom I adored — the 
man whose unloved wife I would rather have been in 
those days than to have seen him the husband of another. 
I had previously done my share of the talking, but after 
that blow I could not speak. Carroll mistook my silence 
for sentiment, my abstraction for a tenderer feeling, and 
became more tender and more full of sentiment than I 
had ever found him before. He pressed me for some 
reason for the melancholy mood which had come over 
me. I answered impetuously, just as I felt at that 
moment, that I was wretched, tired of life, that I longed 
to die. When I saw how these declarations affected him, 
a desperate purpose came over me. So well did I suc- 
ceed, that when we walked up to the hotel together, I 
had promised to be his wife. I have always thought 
that he offered himself to me from pity more than from 
love ; and out of pique I accepted him. Not until our 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


109 


return to our respective homes were the two engagements 
announced ; mine to Carroll, and that of his sister Agnes 
to Harold Graham. Are you tired, Agatha ? for there is 
more to come, and I want to tell you all/ 

‘ No, I am not tired, Mildred ; but you look so white 
and so weary that I am afraid for you. Had you not 
better go to bed, and tell me the rest to-morrow ? ’ 

‘To-morrow morning we go by the Shore line to 
New York. Mr. Tracey left his luggage at the Ocean 
House. He has gone back there for the night, and he 
is coming early in the morning to take me away. His 
sister is dead. We got the telegram after his return 
from the boat, and we are going home for the funeral. 
Nothing is to be known of our separation until the 
divorce is applied for/ 

She was so unnaturally calm now, that Agatha would 
willingly have seen the tears flowing again. 

*1 must tell you all now,’ resumed Mildred. ‘ It is a 
relief to me to be able to speak at last of matters that 
have never passed my lips before. You already know 
that we were married and went home to live with 
Carroll’s father for a time. Agnes was married soon 
after, and the next summer we were all thrown together 
at their old country-house — a place out of Boston, which 
has been in the family for I don’t know how many 
generations. It is an odd old house, with a wing built 
on here, and a bay window there, just as each owner 
fancied, without any pretensions to architecture of any 
sort ; and one of those bay windows cost me the happi- 
ness of my life, for I do believe that I could in time 
have made myself dear to Carroll, and that he would 
have been all in all to me/ 

Mildred paused, shading her eyes with her hand as 


110 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


she recalled the events in the connection that she desired 
to narrate them. Agatha listened in almost breathless 
attention. 

‘ How plainly I can see the room ! the worn, home- 
made, striped carpet, with the straight-backed chairs, the 
tall polished andirons, holding boughs of asparagus 
instead of the logs that blazed upon them in cold days ; 
the muslin curtains that curtained off the great bay 
window, swaying to and fro in the air that swept in 
from beds of jonquils and moss-pinks, and thickets of 
honeysuckle. Ah, Agatha ! since that day it has taken 
only the odour of those flowers to make me ill ! But I 
have not told you how it all came about. Who is it that 
has said “ Face-joy is a costly mask to wear ? ” I have 
worn mine so well that no one dreamed of the aching 
heart that I always carried in my bosom — aching, not 
more with a sense of my own wretchedness, than with 
remorse for the wrong I had done my husband.* To 
atone as far as possible for this wrong I had resolved 
never to trust myself alone in the presence of the man 
whom I still loved — almost as passionately as in the days 
of my girlhood. No, I will not say “ the man,” for it 
was not he, as he disclosed himself to me on that day ; 
it was the ideal that I had raised an altar to in my heart. 
So sedulously did I avoid Harold Graham, that Agnes 
noticed it, and called me to account for my rudeness ; 
but she did it in such a kind, sisterly way, that I felt more 
affection for her than I had ever felt before. The daily 
penance that I underwent schooled me at last into a 
calm confidence in myself, and made me in time fearless 
as to the future, as far as any exposure of my real feel- 
ings was concerned. I was like one dwelling in green 
vineyards that had spread themselves over the side of a 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


Ill 


volcano ; heedless of the molten lava that bubbled and 
boiled beneath, and that at any moment might rend the 
earth under the feet and swallow up all that was lovely, 
leaving nothing but desolation. By no look nor word had 
I ever betrayed to Harold that he was still dear to me; 
although not a day passed that did not bring me some 
experience which contributed to show me that the love 
which he gave to Agnes was as different to that which 
he felt for me, as a little meadow streamlet differs from 
the mountain torrent that carries all before it.’ 

Again Mildred paused, and Agatha lifting her hand 
to her lips and kissing it, said, 

4 What a poetical nature you have! I feel as though 
I were only beginning to know and understand you. 
How dreadful that anything should have come between 
you and Carroll, when you were made for each other ! ’ 

1 No, we were not made for each other. I am sure 
of that. Two poetical temperaments — that is, two im- 
aginative, idealising natures — ought never to be brought 
together in marriage. If one has refined and exalted 
sense, the other should possess common sense, so that 
one may balance the other ; or I am sure their children 
would be lunatics, to say nothing of the weariness and 
satiety that like wedded to like always brings. I know 
that I could no more make Carroll happy than you 
could, for, you see, we, all three of us, are too much 
alike/ 

‘ But like attracts like,’ said Agatha, wishing in her 
heart that Mildred would not make so many digressions. 

‘ In friendship, yes ; in love, counterparts only make 
a perfect whole. Carroll and I were matched, not 
mated, or else he would have forgiven what there was 
to forgive, and grown to love me in time. As for me, 


112 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


I have so longed for love, that had but a dog loved 
me, I could have loved him in return. It has been well 
said that to man love is an amusement, but to woman a 
necessity. It is my life. Do you fancy that I have had 
no temptations in these long years in which he has been 
as indifferent to me as if I were an image of marb’e, 
instead of flesh and blood ? But no, I will not do 
myself the injustice to say that I have been tempted, 
for I never have for one moment forgotten that I 
belonged to another and not to myself ; though some- 
times I have wished that I could forget it.’ 

‘ Poor Mildred ! But will you not tell me what hap- 
pened that morning in the old country-house ? ’ 

‘ Where was I ? I forget. Ah, I was telling you 
that I knew what an unsatisfied life Harold led — that 
I saw what a dear price he had paid for having suffered 
his caution to triumph over his love. I saw also that, 
like myself, it was duty alone that enabled him to main- 
tain the reserve which he had adopted. Agnes had 
one of those weak, clinging natures which some men 
idolise in a woman, and others soon weary of. She all 
but worshipped him ; and more than once I felt em- 
barrassed by his want of deference to her wishes, and his 
undue though formal deference to mine. I saw with 
pain that his nature in no way harmonised with hers : 
while each day made her dearer to me because of her 
amiability — her thoughtful consideration for others. 
How little she dreamed why it was that I so often 
refused her request to sing ; how unamiable and dis- 
obliging she must have thought me ! But, Agatha, I was 
afraid of myself. The very songs she asked me for 
were those I had sung again and again with her hus- 
band ; and not a word but was associated with some 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


113 


memory of him. Our favourite lounging place — Agnes’ 
and mine — was this deep oriel window that I have told 
you of ; it was shut off from the gloomy wainscoted 
parlour by thickly embroidered muslin curtains. This 
little alcove was always light, notwithstanding the glass 
was stained and great matted branches of honey- 
suckle fell over the upper part of it. We kept our books 
there, our writing-desks, and our work-baskets ; and 
our mornings were engaged with one or the other, while 
Carroll and Harold were off shooting, fishing, or in 
some way amusing themselves. In the afternoons we 
all rode or drove together, or took long rambles through 
the woods. One afternoon I found myself when walk- 
ing left behind, as I thought ; and glad to be alone, 
I sat down on a mossy log, thinking I would wait foi 
their return, as I did not feel in the mood of taking a 
longer walk. But I had scarcely thrown off my hat 
when I heard the crackling of steps over the dried pine- 
needles that carpeted the ground. I turned my head, 
and saw Harold Graham approaching. There was no 
restraint in his manner now, as he threw himself down 
in front of me. Looking up into my face he said 
abruptly, without preface of any kind, “You know what 
is in my heart, and I know what is in yours. We can- 
not deceive each other, though we may deceive all the 
world beside.” I was so utterly astounded that I could 
not answer. He continued, “ If the day ever comes that 
you love me any less I will kill you.” He was looking 
straight into my eyes, his own so luminous with a 
strange light that they held mine as if a serpent had 
charmed me. 

* “ You will kill me ? ” I said at last. “ Possibly that is 
the most merciful thing that you could do;” and as 

I 


114 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


I said these words I thought how sweet death would be 
to come by his hands, and wished that it might come 
then and there. But in the same instant I remembered 
my marriage vow, and closing my eyes I tried to shut 
out that magnetic gaze, which was sending electric 
waves from my head to my feet, and at the same time 
taking all strength out of me, so that I was powerless to 
rise. I knew in that moment how the bird feels that 
drops into the jaws of the boa-constrictor. “ Why do 
you close your eyes, and shut me out of heaven, in 
these few brief moments that we are alone together ? ” 
he asked. I did not answer. “ You dare not look at me ! ” 
he said, in a tone of defiance. I replied, “ You are right. 
I dare not.’ * 

* How terribly imprudent in you to admit that, 

Mildred!’ exclaimed Agatha. 4 You ought to have re- 
pelled him at once, and asserted your ’ 

4 I am telling you what I did do — not what I ought 
to have done,’ replied Mildred. 4 It is always easy to 
see how one might have been a heroine, or a saint even, 
after the opportunity has passed ; but it takes a philoso- 
pher to always see what one ought to do, and a stoic to 
do it, when every pulse in your body is going wrong.’ 

* Stoics do not have any pulses that go wrong, I sup- 
pose,’ said Agatha. 4 Now you ought to have ’ 

4 Don’t tell me what I ought to have done : please 
don’t,’ pleaded Mildred. 4 I know only too well what 
I ought to have done. But it was destiny that made 
me do as I did. It is easy for you to say that I ought 
to have done this or that, or that you would have done 
thus or so, had you been in my place : but, Agatha, 
no one can judge for another, and no one knows what 
one would do unless placed in precisely the same cir- 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


115 


cumstances. Judged we may be by each other, but 
God who alone sees the heart and knows all that goes to 
make up the strength of the temptation to do wrong 
instead of right — He alone can pass righteous judg- 
ment. Tell me, Agatha, did the thought ever cross 
your mind, that not Satan, but God, leads us into temp- 
tation, and that He does so lead us in order that 
we may attain greater heights than we could ever reach 
if it were not for such stepping-stones that take us 
upward ? ’ 

‘ I do not think that either God or Satan tempts us/ 
answered Agatha. ‘ I think it is the evil in our own 
hearts, and that if we yield to it, it gains power and be- 
comes our master ; and that if we resist it, good in 
us grows stronger and dominates over the evil.’ 

‘ But our Saviour prayed, “ Lead us not into tempta- 
tion ? ” ’ 

4 1 never thought of that before ; and yet the apostle 
James says, “ Let no man say when he is tempted, I am 
tempted of God.” My favourite passage concerning 
temptation is in these words of St. Paul, “ God will not 
suffer ye to be tempted above that ye are able ; but will 
with the temptation also make a way to escape.” * 

‘ And that promise was literally fulfilled in my case, 
for just when I was the most powerless, the weakest, 
when the very next moment I might have admitted 
something that all my life I would have regretted, 
I saw Carroll and Agnes approaching. Harold had said 
a great deal more ; but I had not spoken after those 
words, “ I dare not.” We all walked home together. 
I had never seen Harold in such a wild, reckless mood 
as he was in for the rest of that day and evening, and 
I had never seen him so dangerously handsome before. 


116 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


I tried to keep my eyes from him ; but every now and 
then, he would address to me a question that obliged me 
to raise my eyes to his ; for of all guilty-looking 
creatures, that one who cannot encounter the eyes of the 
questioner in replying is the most to be pitied ; and each 
time his look sent through me such thrills as I never 
felt before. That night I said to Carroll, “ I want to go 
away from here. The air or something does not agree 
with me.” He replied, that he had never seen me look- 
ing better, and that he had hoped I would like the quiet 
of the country as much as he did, for that the noisy 
gaiety of a watering-place was very distasteful to him. 
What could I do ? I said nothing more, and waited for 
a better opportunity, hoping that chance would befriend 
me : for I do believe in chance, or destiny, or Provi- 
dence, or whatever you choose to call it.’ 

Chance comes from Providence, and man must 
mould it to his own design,” ’ quoted Agatha. 

Mildred shook her head. ‘ No, my design and my 
wish was to get away without any betrayal to Carroll or 
Agnes of Harold’s and my unhappy love for each 
other. Listen, until I tell you what chance did for me ; 
or rather, come to think of it, what chance would have 
done for me, had I not attempted to mould it to my 
own designs. The next afternoon our horses were 
brought around, all of them needing exercise, and 
Carroll and I started off, when Agnes called after us 
that we were pairing off together as usual, like a second 
edition of Adam and Eve, and asked Carroll to ride 
with her and let Harold ride with me. Had I accepted 
that arrangement, all would have been well, for I was in 
a mood to put an end to his madness ; but I quietly 
said to Carroll that I had my reasons for preferring to 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


117 


ride with him ; and he shouted back to his sister that 
he felt like monopolising me. As we rode off he said, 
u You do not like your brother-in-law.” It was true 
that I did not like him, for I loved him, and so 
I wickedly prevaricated and said that I did riot like 
him. If I had only summoned courage then to tell the 
truth ; but of what use is it to say if I had done this, or 
done that, when even in evil I believe that it is God 
who worketh in us to will and do of His own good 
pleasure ? What has been, and is, was to be. We 
returned just at nightfall, all coming in together ; for 
they had joined us before we had reached the grounds; 
and when we had dismounted Carroll and Harold went 
around to the stable, Agnes went up to her room, 
and I sat down in my habit at the piano, my heart so 
full of its pent-up torture that I had to sing. I am sure 
that I sang then as I never sang before — as I never 
have since. I almost forgot my misery as I sang song 
after song that came to me without any conscious 
selection of my own. I had just finished that exquisite 
morceau from “ Robert le Diable,” “ Robert toi que 
j’aime ,” when I felt a presence_beside me. I had heard no 
sound, no footfall, for there was no matting on the 
parlour floor, as on the others, but a carpet of soft wool. 
I knew, as a clairvoyant knows, who it was that stood 
close by me— so close that presently I heard the breath 
come and go. My fingers trembled over the keys ; my 
firm elastic touch had gone ; my song ended in a wail ; 
and angry with myself that it was so, I pressed both my 
hands over my face and burst into tears. He crossed 
the room, closed the door, and returning, stood again at 
my side. “ Mildred ! let me see your face ; look at 
me. Why do you persist in avoiding me now that we 


118 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


both know 4 what we are to each other? You shall 
listen to me, if you will not look at me,” he said, holding 
me down on my seat by both hands pressed on my 
shoulders, for I had started to fly from the room. To 
fly from him ! I tell you Agatha from the moment that 
his hands touched me I lost all my strength again. 
I could not move. I daresay you do not believe in 
animal magnetism, but I do. When he found that 
I offered no farther resistance, he dropped upon one 
knee, and passed his arm around my waist. I made no 
resistance, nor should I if he had taken out a knife to 
kill me, as he had threatened to do. He continued, “ If 
I try to keep my love for you shut up in my heart any 
longer, it will eat its way through. You must listen to 
me. What an awful mistake we have both made ! Tell 
me that you forgive the cold heartlessness which made 
me follow judgment instead of passion ! ” I did not 
answer ; my heart felt as if it were floating in a sea of 
flame, and I breathed as if the flames were stifling me 
at first ; then I grew quite calm in an inexplicable 
sense of happiness that came over me, and I wished 
that I might die then and there, before it passed, as 
I knew it would when he should take his hands away. 
Agatha, I am talking to you as if I were talking to my 
own soul, for I have had all these memories to bear 
so long alone, that I really think I will lose my reason 
if I try to keep them to myself any longer.' 

Agatha pressed Mildred’s hand which she was still 
holding, but she did not speak. These were strange 
revelations for one whose life had been so void of pas- 
sionate love as Agatha’s had been. Mildred continued, 
‘ “ What a heaven have I shut myself out from !” he said ; 
his face so near to mine that I felt his breath on my 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


119 


cheeks. “ Why did you lead me to think that you loved 
another, when now I know so well that you have never 
loved any man but me ? How have I watched every 
look that you gave your husband ; how have I listened 
to every inflection of your voice in speaking to him! A 
sister might give the same. Had it been otherwise, I 
believe, in my insane jealousy, I would have stabbed you 
both. But I remembered how different were the glances 
and the tones that had made my pulses thrill, and my 
veins run with fire. Mildred ! did God ever mean to 
make two of His creatures drag out such lives of misery 
as ours would be if spent apart from each other ? Must 
the laws of men separate us for ever ? or will you give up 
the world for me, who would give up heaven for you, and 
go with me to some foreign land where we can be to each 
other all that our hearts daim ? If we stay here, we 
shall daily have to face tortures that will make us pray 
for death.” I heard him to the end, and with one of 
those sudden revulsions of feeling which sometimes we 
read of, but which seem unnatural and improbable, I felt 
all my composure returning, while my heart seemed 
frozen within me by his base proposal. I shook myself 
from his hold and answered, “As I prayed for death, 
when I heard you offer yourself to Agnes. Carroll Tracey 
showed me the compassion which your less generous 
nature withheld ; for fancying he had occasioned my 
misery he offered me his hand, and I accepted it ; 
but not to wrong him as you would now tempt me to do. 
I have loved you as passionately as ever a man was 
loved ; but your unworthiness, as it stands revealed to me 
now, has accomplished what nothing else could ever have 
done. I love you no longer. I pity the cold, calculating 
nature which kept you from declaring yourself to me, 


120 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


when the happiness of both our lives hung upon that de- 
claration ; and I pity still more the poor wife whom you 
would have sacrificed had I been as ready to forget my 
duties as you have been to forget yours.” This is as 
near as it is possible to repeat what passed between us 
after so long a time, though I have lived over it so often 
in memory that the scene is to me almost as if it were a 
thing of the present. I walked from the piano straight 
out of the room to my chamber. Carroll was there. 
The two had come in together, and Harold had seen him 
go up, before coming in to insult me with his diabolical 
proposition. For the first time in my life I went to 
my husband, and embraced him, feeling as though I was 
more worthy of his noble nature than I had ever been 
before, and that, with God’s help, I would be still more 
so. He held me very tenderly to his heart, and kissed 
me on my lips, again and again. It was the last time 
he ever kissed me. Since that night we have lived apart, 
and only in name have we been husband and wife, for 
there was a dreadful denouement . When the tea was an- 
nounced Agnes was nowhere to be found. We called 
her, searched the grounds for her ; but all in vain, until 
at last I drew aside the curtains of the oriel window, and 
there she lay, across a divan, with her head down, to all 
appearance dead. We sent for the physician, who arrived 
before our simple remedies had been of any use in bring- 
ing her back to consciousness. She became conscious 
only to rave fearfully of all she had seen and overheard, 
that had passed between her husband and myself. Un- 
fortunately for me she had fallen into her swoon before 
hearing my answer, and of course, she regarded me as 
the author of all her trouble. From this attack of brain- 
fever, she recovered, only to be an invalid for the rest of 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


121 


her days, and now, God has most mercifully taken her, 
where I wish I could follow.’ Mildred locked her hands 
together as she spoke, her dry eyes, and the rigidly set 
muscles of her mouth but too plainly speaking to Agatha 
of the dull despair in her heart. 

< Was Harold Graham so little of a man that he did 
not come forward and tell the truth ? ’ asked Agatha. 

‘ Oh no, he took everything upon himself— said that 
he only was to blame. I never knew how much or how 
little my husband believed, for he never spoke to me upon 
the subject, excepting once. Then he asked me if I had 
loved Harold when I married him, and of course I told 
him the truth. That time I offered no explanations, for 
I did not wish to accuse Harold, who had so generously 
exonerated me ; besides, I knew that in my heart I had 
been untrue to my husband, and I felt too much remorse 
to attempt to justify myself. Now it is different ; I have 
never for one instant since that time been untrue to 
him in word or thought, and I did try to justify myself ; 
but he did not believe what I told him, and even you, 
Agatha, did not give entire credence to my statement. I 
saw it in your eyes.’ 

4 How can you say so, Mildred? You do me great 
injustice. Perhaps at first I did not quite comprehend 
how Paul Howard could have held you in his arms if you 
had made resistance ; but I do now, and no one could 
doubt you, least of all your husband, who must see how 
true you have been to him through these long years in 
which you have suffered so fearfully through the reckless 
folly of your girlhood. Now do let me persuade you to 
go to bed, and to-morrow morning when Mr. Tracey 
comes, all will be made right, I feel sure of it. If you 
are already so much dearer to me because of what you 


122 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


have told me, think how much more he will love you 
when he knows all/ Mildred threw back her head de- 
fiantly, saying, ‘ It is too late. He said words to me last 
night that I can never forget. It takes a great deal of 
love to close such wounds as his words made ; and you 
must not forget that we have never professed to love 
each other. Besides, he gave me such a glimpse of his 
own sufferings, from our want of congeniality, that I am 
fully as anxious now to set him free as he is to be so/ 

‘ But Mildred, you said yourself that you could love 
a dog even, so thirsty was your heart for love/ 

‘ I did not say I could love a dog that did not love 
me, and Carroll has never loved me ; any tenderness he 
has shown me has been from pity, not from love. I have 
but one thing to live for, and that is to help him to 
be free as soon as possible. My death would be the best 
way, but people as wretched as I am never die until they 
have reached the age of Methuselah/ 

‘ No divorce would make him free to marry again/ 
said Agatha. ‘ Our Saviour acknowledges but one law- 
ful reason for divorce, and that does not exist between 
you/ 

‘ I do not understand/ replied Mildred. 

‘Why, although you may not have been true to 
each other in the spirit of the law, if you have in the 
letter, you cannot be divorced, so that either of you can 
marry again/ continued Agatha, ‘ according to my idea 
of divorce, which is the Scripture one, I am sure. I 
would never marry a man so divorced, and I am sure 
you would not think of marrying again, even if you were 
separated from your husband. If we are at liberty to 
say which of our Saviour’s teachings we will call truth, 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


123 


and which error, we are no followers of His. But Mil- 
dred, it is after midnight, and you must go to bed/ 

There was no sleep for either that night. Agatha 
thought over all that Mildred had told her. Never be- 
fore had she heard of such experiences in real life, and 
never before had she felt so much charity for the erring. 
When morning came, Mildred found herself unable to 
lift her head from her pillow, for the throbbing headache 
that had attacked her, almost blinding her with severe 
neuralgic pain. She begged to have all light shut out 
from the room, and be left alone. 

When Mr. Tracey came to take her to the train, 
Agatha met him, and told him how impossible it would 
be for Mildred to travel, asking his consent that she 
might stay with her for the two weeks that she was to 
remain in Newport. Mr. Tracey was quite willing, and 
it was so arranged. 


124 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


CHAPTER XI. 

MILDRED was in bed for several days, and for several 
more she did not go down stairs. Agatha had many 
long conversations with her ; and each day that passed 
made them dearer to each other. Mr. Tracey wrote 
that he had put everything under way for the divorce as 
privately as possible, and would avoid all unnecessary 
publicity. At length the day was fixed for their return 
to New York, and Agatha went out to pay her last calls 
upon those of her acquaintances who were to remain in 
Newport all winter. Mildred was in the music-room, 
when Paul Howard entered without being announced. 
His face showed traces of the strong excitement that 
he was endeavouring to control and keep under. His 
free manners and rollicking ways were entirely laid aside, 
and approaching Mildred with the greatest deference he 
said, 

‘ I am fortunate in finding you alone.’ 

Mildred did not speak. Save that she breathed 
heavier, and that a flush crept over her face, only to 
leave it paler than before, there was no sign that she 
even knew of his presence ; for although she had raised 
her eyes upon his entrance, they had fallen again as 
soon as she had recognised him. 

* How anxious I have been about you !’ he continued ; 
* I had to go to New York last week, and I only returned 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


125 


yesterday. I came at once to see you, but was refused. 
Just now I saw Miss Lee’s coupe turning on to the 
avenue, and I made another attempt, in which chance 
has favoured me. Have you not one word of welcome 
for me ?’ 

‘ I have no words of welcome for anyone, certainly 
not for you, Mr. Howard,’ she answered. 

‘ Mildred ! Mildred ! every word that you say in these 
freezing tones goes through my heart like steel. What 
is my sin ? Loving you more than ever a woman was 
loved in this world, that is my offence ! ’ 

‘ An offence, which, as the wife of another, I never 
can, and never will forgive,’ she replied, raising her eyes, 
and meeting the smouldering glow of passion in his. 

* The unloved, unhappy wife of another,’ he said with 
emphasis. 

‘ Who dares say I am not a happy wife ? ’ she 
asked. 

‘ The world,’ he answered. 

i Go and tell the world that my husband is a king 
among men, and that it is happiness enough for me to 
be his wife, even if I am an unloved one.’ 

4 You are not speaking the truth. If you had been a 
happy wife, do you fancy that I would have followed 
you as I have from place to place since I left the army ? 
You are not happy, nor can you ever know what love is, 
as the wife of a man who doles out to you a cold affec- 
tion, such as the followers of Plato might enjoy, but 
not you, Mildred ! Heavens, how happy I should make 
you!’ 

‘ How miserable you have made me,’ she said. * Have 
you no apology to offer ? Do you feel no regret for 
what you have done ? ’ 


126 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


‘ Regret ? no ; what I did I would do over again if I 
had the opportunity/ 

4 Have you no fear of God ; none of a hereafter ?’ she 
asked. 

‘ There can be no worse hell than it is to me to know 
that you belong to another. If you were like other 
women whom I have loved, you 9 

* Other women whom you have loved ! ’ repeated 
Mildred. ‘ Pray tell me how many scores of women you 
have loved.’ 

4 More than I can count ; but you, you have been, 
and are, the passion of my life. Had you not told me 
that if I ever made you untrue even in thought to your 
husband you would take your own life, I would not have 
spared you as I have.’ 

‘You, spared me!’ exclaimed Mildred, shaking off 
his hand which he had laid on her shoulder. ‘ Do you 
know what you are saying ? Good God ! what have I 
ever done that you should dare to say such words to me, 
that you should hold me in such light respect?’ 

‘ I do not respect the angels in heaven more than I 
do you. Love makes me bold, and my knowledge that 
you do love me although you try to hide it from me. 
Hopeless love makes me desperate.’ 

‘ If you know that I love you in return with that 
kind of love which you offer me, why do you call your 
love hopeless ? That should satisfy you, and keep you 
from desperation.’ 

‘ Was there ever a thirsty man who was satisfied by 
seeing within his reach a fountain gushing over that he 
was forbidden to touch ? Be merciful; you will do your 
husband no wrong. It is he who has wronged you every 
hour that you have been his wife. Listen to me. Society’s 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


127 


laws are not God’s laws. He never intended that two 
who love each other should be kept apart, because one 
of them had committed the mistake of marrying where 
there was neither congeniality nor love. Life is too 
short to waste in such a joyless existence. Be merciful ; 
let me hear your dear lips say what your eyes have so 
often told me of late. It was your unsatisfied soul that 
looked out of those eyes into mine, and drew me to you 
by the irresistible laws of nature. I swear to you, my 
darling, that all I ask of you is love. Only feed my 
hunger with your love, only let me hold this precious 
hand, unresisted, and I shall ask nothing more.’ 

Mildred’s face wore an abstracted look, as with her 
eyes bent upon the carpet, and her chin resting in the 
hollow of her hand, she listened to him ; making no 
attempt to interrupt him, and no movement, excepting 
when he had endeavoured to touch her hand, which she 
then quickly withdrew. 

4 Is this all that you have to say ?’ she asked, when he 
had finished speaking. 

‘ No ; I have a great deal more to say. All time 
would be too short to say all that I have to say. But 
why are you so changed to-day ? Why are you so hard 
and cold and unfeeling ?’ 

* I would have told you why, had you come to talk 
with me as the friend that I once considered you — had 
you even expressed any regret for the outrage that you 
committed in holding me in your arms, and kissing me 
as you did when I was powerless to prevent you. I 
thought only schoolboys cared for kisses that were 
gained by force — that gentlemen only prized such favours 
when they were willingly yielded. As you have no re- 
gret to express, no apology to make, 1 desire that you 


128 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


should relieve me of your presence, and that after this 
we only meet as strangers.’ 

‘ Am I nothing to you, then, that you can be angry 
with me for such a trifle ? ’ 

‘ I do not call it a trifle. I belong to another ; and 
do you think that it is but a trifle to me, when I find 
myself in the arms of anyone save in his to whom I 
belong ? It is the first time in my life that any man, 
other than my husband, has so held me. Whatever re- 
gard I may have had for you in the past, it is all gone 
now. It is ’ 

‘ Don’t say such words to me. Our love is too deep 
to die from one wound.’ 

‘ Do not interrupt me, if you please. I listened to you, 
and now I have several things to say before we part, to 
meet as strangers whenever and wherever we next meet. 
I do not pretend to deny that I have fully appreciated 
your friendship, and that I loved to think it would be an 
enduring one ; but you have destroyed all that. It is 
always so with me. No matter how much I may care 
for anyone, man or woman, when I find them capable 
of acts that they would scorn did they possess the 
souls with which I have endowed them, I lose my love ; 
but I deny ever having loved you as you think that I 
have loved you ; I deny that you have ever spared me 
in any way. You took a brutal advantage of me in a 
moment when I was under the spell of music, the power 
of which you well know ; and, although you have ex- 
pressed no penitence, no regret, I ’ 

< How can I express what I do not feel ? ’ he said. 

4 You ought to feel it ; and possibly, when you know 
what suffering you have brought to me, you may feel it. 
When you left me by one door that night my husband 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


129 


entered by another ; but not before he had seen me in 
your arms as he passed by the window/ 

Paul Howard started forward, ‘ Good God, Mildred ! 
was this then the cause of your illness ? ’ 

‘Yes, my illness resulted from the painful scene that 
I went through with my husband that night ; but more 
than my illness is another result that you have yet to 
hear. We are to be divorced/ 

‘ Divorced ! ’ he exclaimed. ‘ Then you will yet be 
mine. No one shall rob me of you now, Mildred/ He 
left his chair, and stood beside her. 

She looked up into his face. The tenderness which 
overflowed his eyes no longer possessed any danger for 
her. With perfect coolness she replied, 

‘ You cannot be robbed of that which you have never 
possessed. Were I ten times divorced I would never be 
yours. You boasted that you had spared me in the past. 
All that I ask of you is to spare me in the future — to 
spare me from any declarations of a passion, the memory 
of which will always be a humiliation to me ! * She 
arose and crossed the room to the bell-spring, which, at 
her touch, soon brought a servant’s footsteps within 
sound. 

‘You cannot be so cruel/ was all that he had time to 
utter before the servant appeared. 

‘ Will you send my maid to me, please ?’ she said to 
the man, who left to execute the order. When the 
door had closed, she walked to the mantelpiece, and 
stood leaning against it, awaiting Paul Howard’s de- 
parture. 

He approached her. ‘You will be sorry some day 
that you have been so harsh to me, Mildred. I will wait 
until that time comes ; and now, at least, tell me before 
K 


130 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


I go that you forgive me for having offended you through 
too much love ! ’ 

‘ If there had been more love there would have been 
more respect and nothing for me to forgive ; but I do 
forgive you, as I hope for forgiveness myself.’ 

‘ Then if you forgive me, say that we shall meet as 
friends and not as strangers when next we meet.’ 

Mildred hesitated for a moment, and then said with 
a continuation of that unbroken calmness that had 
characterised her through the interview, 

1 We will meet as friends when we do meet so long 
as you make no other claims upon me than those of 
friendship.’ 

At that moment the maid entered, and Paul Howard 
left the room and the house/ As he strode over the 
lawn, in no enviable frame of mind, he cursed his stars 
that by one rash act he had lost the vantage ground 
which up to that time he had fancied that he had 
gained. 

‘ It is plain to be seen that all is up between Mrs. 
Carroll Tracey and you,’ said Colonel Potten that evening 
as they sat over their dessert together. ‘ You have 
quarrelled, I see.’ 

‘ I do not know what has put that into your head. 
We have parted friends.’ 

* “ Friendship full oft doth ripen into love,”’ quoted 
Colonel Potten. 

* But in this instance love has ripened into friendship, 
I am afraid,’ answered Howard. 

* Now , there is some mischief going on, I am sure 
of that, when you throw out such blinds. No elope- 
ment while you are under my roof. ’ “ Honour among 
thieves,” you know.’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


131 


‘Let me tell you that you do not know Mrs. Carroll 
Tracey ; and for the matter of that, I did not until to- 
day. She is the first woman I have ever met who made 
me feel like a fool. I don’t mind telling you, Potten, 
but, to quote your own words, “ Honour among thieves,” 
you know.* 

‘ Whatever you say to me is as safe as if you had 
only thought it/ he answered. 

‘Well, Mr. and Mrs. Tracey are to be divorced, and 
on the strength of the information, I offered myself and 
was refused point blank. I have not got over the 
stunned sensation that I experienced yet/ 

‘ Offered yourself? What do you mean — for a hus- 
band or a lover ? ’ 

Howard put his hand up to the back of his head, 
and concentrating his gaze as if he were looking at some- 
thing in the distance, said, 

‘ Upon my word, I don’t think that I said anything 
about marriage. Why, of course that’s just what’s the 
matter.’ 

‘ But then you would see her in heaven first before 
you would marry her. Isn’t that what you told me ?’ 

‘ If I did, I did not mean what I was saying. She 
would make this earth a heaven for me if she would 
marry me. She is the first woman, and the only woman, 
I have ever seen whom I wished to marry ; or who could 
have tempted me into an elopement.’ 

‘ How about Miss Penn ? It certainly is not so long 
ago that you had that little affair with her that you can 
have forgotten how sorely you were tempted then.’ 

‘ Not to marry her, by a long shot. She tempted me 
just as she tempts every man that she flirts with. That 
girl is the deepest for her years that I ever came across. 


132 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


I believe, upon my soul, that she is only marrying Ather- 
ton to give her more freedom. She can lead a man to 
the devil as coolly and as deliberately as * 

‘ As some men can lead a woman/ interrupted Colonel 
Potten. 4 She may meet her match some day.' 

Paul Howard lighted his cigar and gave himself up 
to his reflections. Colonel Potten took his New York 
journal to the light and read as he smoked. For an 
hour or more there was nothing said ; then Colonel Pot- 
ten looked up, and saw Howard leaning back in his chair 
with a dark frown on his brow, and an evil light in his 
eyes. 

‘You are the image of an engraving of Satan that I 
have seen somewhere/ remarked Colonel Potten. 

‘So I have been told before. I am getting used to 
the compliment.’ 

‘ Well, it is a compliment. Satan, you know, is said 
to represent unprincipled intellect.’ 

‘ It is enough to make a devil of a man to find every- 
thing as topsy-turvy as it is in this world. I daresay 
Lucifer himself would have been all right, if something 
had not gone wrong in which a woman was concerned.’ 

‘ Most of us find things all right as long as we have 
our own way, but when we are crossed, the Lucifer in us 
generally rises. You have no reason to complain. 
“ Everything comes to those who know how to wait.” 
Give the little woman time, and if you do not fall in love 
with some fresh face, and continue seriously to wish to 
marry Mrs. Tracey after she is divorced, the chances 
are all in your favour.’ 

‘ I am not so sure of that. Since I have been sitting 
here, I have recalled a story that I once heard about 
some affair between Carroll Tracey and his brother-in- 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


133 


law, that had been hushed up. You know his sister died 
last week ; and if there was anything, as I have heard it 
intimated, between Graham and Mrs. Tracey, why it’s all 
up with me, you see. When Tracey gets his divorce, she’ll 
marry Graham/ 

‘ All the better for you, and for her too/ answered 
Colonel Potten. ‘ But if she has had an affair with Gra- 
ham, the chances are that they neither of them care a 
button for each other now/ 

‘ What do you mean ?’ said Howard, starting to his 
feet, his brows set and a demoniacal light flashing from 
his eyes. ‘ If you dare to speak of her in that way ! 
If ’ 

‘Come, come; don’t get so excited. How could I 
know that I was touching a sore spot ? Let me advise 
you, if you have so much sensitiveness on that score, 
never to marry a divorced woman/ 

‘ I tell you, if every relative I have in the world, and 
every friend that I possess, warn me not to marry Mrs. 
Tracey, I will marry her all the same, if she will have 
me, when her husband gets the divorce/ 

‘What is the ground on which he applies for it?’ 
asked Colonel Potten. 

‘ I do not know. Incompatibility of temperament, 
I suppose. Good heavens ! It is always so with these 
literary men. They do not deserve to have wives. I 
know I am a worthless, lazy, good-for-nothing fellow, but 
with such a woman for a wife, you would see what I 
would become!’ 

‘ Every man makes his own character/ said Colonel 
Potten. 

‘ If there is a destiny that shapes our ends, rough- 
hew them as we will, we do not make our characters our- 


134 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


selves. It is the controlling power of circumstances, the 
influences that surround us, which make us what we are/ 
replied Howard. 

‘ Not if a man has been trained to discipline himself ; 
that’s what gives strength to a character, and helps him 
to control circumstances, instead of his being controlled 
by them. No wife is going to keep you right. With 
your fickle disposition, as soon as you come in possession 
of the bauble you cry for, it will lose its value. I hate 
to see a man, possessing such brilliant talents as you, 
fritter his life away for want of this same self-disci- 
pline. If you but gave the time to your studies, and 
your clients, that you devote to running after new faces, 
you could be the first lawyer in New York. But as it 
is, the firm of “ Mortimer and Howard ” will probably 
never be heard of as connected with any cases of import- 
ance.’ 

‘ By the way, I forgot to tell you that Mortimer writes 
me he has a new client. He does not give his name. 
By Jove ! ’ suddenly springing to his feet from the lounge 
where he had thrown himself, 4 I’ll wager a dozen of 
Metternich that he is Carroll Tracey. An affair to be 
conducted with great secrecy, kept out of the papers, 
and all that. Of course it is Tracey’s divorce. You 
know Mortimer is a cousin of your “ Saint Agatha.” * 

‘ Don’t say my Saint Agatha. If all that you have 
told me is true, she will marry Tracey when he gets his 
divorce.’ 

* Well, I have been stupid — thinking so much of my- 
self that it never entered my head what he was after. 
Of course, that explains it all. This raises my hopes 
again ; ’ and throwing off his gloom, he broke out into a 
merry trill, gliding into a chansonette, and ending with 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


135 


the first verse of the *song, ‘ She is mine, she is mine/ 
which of late had seemed to be forgotten. 

* Yes, it is all settled now,’ he said, as he ended the 
verse. ‘ Carroll Tracey and Saint Agatha, Mildred and 
I ; and who is there for you, old fellow ? Come, now be 
amiable for once in your life, and offer yourself to that 
charming Miss Lennox, who had no eyes nor ears for 
anyone but you at Mrs. Rivers’s dinner.’ 

‘What! that old maid? why, she is thirty years 
old at least.’ 

‘ And how old are you, pray tell ? You have reached 
the age of discretion, and discretion tells a man of your 
age not to marry a girl if he wishes companionship of 
mind as well as full appreciation of himself and ’ 

‘ Good for you/ broke in Colonel Potten. ‘ That is 
about the first sage remark I ever heard you make. But 
don’t trouble your head about me. I shall never marry 
again.’ 

‘ It seems to me that you do not know your own 
mind. Why, it is not six months since you told me that 
you had made up your mind that you would. I thought 
you would offer yourself to Miss Lee. I did, upon my 
honour.’ 

‘ What an insane idea ! If I ever should be such a 
fool as to marry again, I shall marry a woman, if I know 
myself, and not an icicle.’ Adroitly turning the conver- 
sation, he added, ‘ I must confess that I did not think 
you were a marrying man ; certainly, not before you 
were thirty, did I expect you to fall into the harness of 
a Benedick.’ 

A hearty and prolonged laugh answered this last re- 
mark as if he himself were struck with the ludicrousness 
of the idea. ‘ Paul Howard a married man ! ’ he found 


136 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


breath at last to say. ‘ The very thought is absurd ; but 
that is the way one after another of us disappear out of 
the procession of bachelors that feast the eyes and gladden 
the hearts of the fair candidates for matrimony, and the 
she-dragons who spread their nets for us with the tempt- 
ing bait/ 

‘T^ke care how you speak of prospective mothers- 
in-law. You know it takes a rash man to defy instead 
of propitiating the powers of evil. What witty French- 
man said that there are three evils in this world from 
which there is no escaping — sin, sorrow, and a mother- 
in-law ?’ 

‘ I am sure I do not know ; but again my luck is in 
the ascendant, for Mildred has no mother/ 

i A settled thing, your marriage with her, is it ?* 

‘Yes, as far as I am concerned, it is all settled. But 
you know, “ Man proposes, and woman disposes,” is the 
new rendering of “ L’homme propose, et Dieu dispose/’ * 
‘ A very good one for this especial case. Well, you 
have my best wishes for whatever is best for you. I 
daresay there is some truth in the saying, “ Love makes 
or mars a man,” but, however things go with you, be 
man enough to get out of life what it owes you/ 

‘ I have managed to do that, so far ; but then, I have 
been easier to satisfy than I shall be in the future, now 
that I know what perfection in a woman is, for the first 
time in my life/ 

‘ The first time in your life, eh ? Now remember 
what I tell you, for I am older than you are in many 
things; it is not the last time that you will fancy a 
woman perfection itself, but if you ever do really find 
one, don’t trust her. If I thought Mrs. Tracey answered 
to that description, I would counsel you to flee from her 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


137 


as from Satan himself. No ; give me “ a creature not too 
good for human nature’s daily food.” Besides, saints and 
sinners never fraternise well together. I like a cross be- 
tween an amiable woman and one who is “ coijfte de son 
opinion ” yes, and chausfe also, as Miss Lennox is.’ 

‘ But of all descriptions of women, I like sancti- 
monious ones least — the rigidly virtuous, you know, who, 
never having known a temptation themselves, sit in 
judgment upon those who have been tempted and who 
have done better, perhaps, than they would had they 
been exposed to the same. There’s your Saint Agatha, 
for instance ; irritate ’ 

‘What possesses you to call her mine? You are 
enough to drive one mad,’ ejaculated Colonel Potten, 
with much irritability. 

‘ Tut, tut ! don’t get excited over a trifle. Irritate 
her a little, I say, and the pattes de velours run out their 
claws to strike. I fancy she is like the money of Henry 
VII., silver without and copper within. A few crosses 
to the disposition, a few rubs to the coin, will show up the 
copper.’ 

It was now Colonel Potten’s turn to spring to his 
feet ; and almost shaking his fist in Paul Howard’s face, 
he gave vent to his indignation. ‘ What do you know, or 
what could a man like you know, of her character ? I 
tell you she is as far above Mrs. Tracey as a star is above 
a will-o’-the wisp. She is the only perfect woman I ever 
have known.’ 

It was as good as a farce to see Paul Howard, as, 
leaning back in his chair with great composure, he gave 
utterance to a prolonged ‘ Wh-e-e-e-w ! ’ that spoke 
volumes. 

‘ Well, this is a piece of news which obliges me to 


138 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


take a run in the frosty air to recover my senses. Look 
here, Potten, I’ll bet on Tracey one hundred to one. 
Take my advice, fly from her as you would from Satan 
himself ; and whatever you do, when you do marry, 
marry a woman, and not an iceberg. Good-night/ 

‘Fool!’ ejaculated Colonel Potten, as the door 
closed. 

It opened again immediately, and Howard put his 
head in, just long enough to say, 

‘ I don’t charge anything as counsel in this case. One 
good turn deserves another, you know.’ 

In another week Agatha and Mildred were in their 
respective homes in New York, Colonel Potten had taken 
possession of his winter quarters in the same city, and 
Paul Howard was again The slave of toil/ to use his own 
expression. 


PART II. 


Glancing upon me with a scornful air, 

‘ Who were thy ancestors 1 ’ he coldly asked. 

Dante’s Inferno. 

Can Souli£ be right, when he says in his Memoires du 
Diable , 6 II n’y a done pas dans le monde une femme sur 
la vie privde de laquelle on peut frapper meme au hasard 
sans y dveiller le souvenir d’un crime ou d’un remords’? 



CHAPTER I. 


Mr. Lee’s house in New York was undergoing repairs ; 
and although the artisans had promised to vacate the 
premises early in December, Agatha returned from 
Newport, the last of that month, to find them still in 
possession. This state of things being utterly intoler- 
able, she decided to accept an invitation from her friend, 
Mrs. Belcher, living in ‘the Quaker city,’ to spend a 
month with her. 

After a few busy days of preparation, she left New 
York without seeing the Traceys ; for although she 
found time to call upon Mildred, she did not find her at 
home, and the few lines that she left pencilled on her 
card received no answer. 

Mrs. Belcher, as Edith Vassal, had been a school- 
mate of Mildred, as well as of Agatha ; and the three, 
during their school-days in New Haven, had been known 
to the students of Yale College as ‘ the three Graces,’ 
although Agatha was far from possessing the beauty of 
‘ the blond ’ Edith, or ‘ the brunette ’ Mildred, she having 
won her cognomen of ‘ the saint ’ from her demure face 
during divine service in chapel ; never coquetting with 
her eyes, as the two others were accused of doing ; or if 
she did, in such a saintly way that she escaped de- 
tection. 


142 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


The Belchers were very pleasantly situated, both as 
to their residence and society ; for although they both 
belonged to Massachusetts families, and had only lived 
in Philadelphia since their marriage, they had managed 
to steer clear of continuing acquaintances that were not 
agreeable, and to maintain without being intrusive such 
as were congenial, which the author of ‘ Rose, Blanche 
and Violet ’ pronounces to be a most difficult feat to 
accomplish. It is true that Mr. Belcher was looked upon 
as a self-made man, for he was not one to parade his 
antecedents. It was enough for him to know that the 
stock he came from had been known in the new world 
for two hundred years and more, as inheriting the ster- 
ling qualities of their Puritan ancestors ; men whom his- 
tory pronounced to be more than mere colonists, the 
exponents of a new civilisation founded on the idea that 
under God men could govern themselves ; men whose 
flight from England and self-exile on these shores was 
the strongest protest they could give against the divine 
right of kings in civil and religious government. Very 
proud was Mr. Belcher of his extraction, very proud that 
not only upon his father’s and mother’s side was he of 
genuine Puritan blood, but that the ancestors of his 
father’s mother, and the ancestors of his mother’s mother, 
were of the same energetic, resolute race. 

Mrs. Belcher, it is just as true, was also represented 
as quite low-born, aspiring and vulgar, by the many 
whom she had found rude, uncultivated, or uncongenial, 
and to whom she had consequently turned her cold 
shoulder, quite regardless of her husband’s advice to be 
politic. Not possessing an especially sensitive tempera- 
ment, she cared as little for all the ill-natured stories put 
in circulation concerning her antecedents, as she would 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


143 


have cared for the croaking of frogs on a mild spring 
evening ; believing with Alphonse Karr that envy and 
misrepresentation ‘ accompagnent si regulierement le 
bonheur, comme le croassement des grenouilles une belle 
soiree d’ete, qu’il semble que la haine fasse partie du 
bonheur, et qu’elle avertisse les gens distraits qu’ils sont 
heureux.’ 

The morning after Agatha’s arrival, sitting with Mrs. 
Belcher in her cosy boudoir, she said, ‘ Tell me Edith, 
whether you have heard anything about the Traceys 
lately.’ 

‘ 1 should think I had. The town has been ringing 
with the scandal. They say she has eloped with Paul 
Howard, and her husband has applied for a divorce.’ 

‘ Eloped ! ’ exclaimed Agatha. ‘ That cannot be 
possible. Why, it is scarcely more than a month since 
she and Mr. Tracey left me in Newport. Eloped ! no, 
I never will believe that of Mildred. But how dreadful 
for such a story to get around ! What else have you 
heard ? ’ 

‘Why, that Mr. Tracey is going to Europe; that 
there is some one there whom he is suspected of wish- 
ing to marry ; that they never have cared for each 
other ; and oh, I don’t remember half I have heard. 
I used to see a good deal of them when they lived here, 
and I often wondered what Mildred could have seen in 
him to fancy. He is so haughty, and cold, and repel- 
ling in his manners ; and never seemed to think of anyone 
but himself. I believe that is the way with literary 
people, all brains and no heart. Poor Mildred, I am 
sure, has had a hard time of it ; but if she has run away 
with that renegade Paul Howard she will have it still 
harder. He will never marry her.’ 


144 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


4 She will never marry him, and she will never run 
away with anyone/ answered Agatha ; 4 nor did Paul 
Howard originate the trouble between Mildred and her 
husband : that dates back to the early days of their 
wedded life — long before she knew him. I cannot tell 
you what it was, for Mildred has told me in confidence ; 
but I can say that I do but love her the more for 
all she has been through ; although she committed a 
cruel wrong towards her husband ; who, if you knew him 
as I know him, you would say was one of the noblest of 
men.’ 

Mrs. Belcher had a toss of her head that was very 
charming in her, and which did not in the least detract 
from her refinement ; but then, after all it was scarcely 
more than a suggestion of a toss, and this suggestion 
was her only answer. It seemed to say, 4 1 would not 
give much for his nobility/ 

4 1 have never known his equal/ continued Agatha. 
4 He unites the strongest intellect of a man with a 
woman’s tenderness of heart. In fact, I must warn you 
not to say anything against Carroll Tracey to me, for in 
him I have found that ideal friend that before I knew 
him I looked for in vain.’ 

4 Ah ! I remember your hobby. Is he also a disciple 
of Plato ? ’ asked Mrs. Belcher, striving to suppress the 
merry twinkle in her eyes. 

4 He is as firm a believer in the highest forms of 
friendship as I am ; and in that attraction, or sympathy, 
or ’ 

‘Affinity/ suggested Mrs. Belcher. 

4 No, I hate that word, and I will not use it ; but you 
know what I mean ; for I have heard you say times 
without number that you feel the greatest attraction for 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


145 


some persons, and the greatest aversion for others. This 
very thing it is that makes you the exclusive little 
woman that you are called.’ 

‘I do not deny the charge/ replied Mrs. Belcher, 
and this time the toss of her classical head was a little 
more decided than before. ‘But I cannot be as ex- 
clusive as I would like to be ; for could I have my own 
way, I would exclude every boor, and every fast girl 
and fast woman, not only from my own doors, but from 
society. I have such an antipathy to looseness of 
morals and manners, as well as to all ignorance and vul- 
garity, that I am never brought into contact with such 
people without mentally acknowledging myself to be 
a disciple of Darwin ; for I feel so unmistakably the 
blood of some ancestral porcupine stirring in my veins 
as to verify the law of selection.’ 

Agatha laughed her low, pleasant laugh, for she 
possessed one of those voices and laughs that are full of 
music, and which linger on the listener’s ear like strains 
of some haunting melody. 

This was but one of many long chats which they 
held during Agatha’s visit, talking over their school-girl 
experiences, and those of later days ; discussing the 
books they had read, the new people they had met, 
as well as the friends of ‘ auld lang syne ; ’ and in this 
way, and in receiving and making calls, the days 
passed ; for the weather was too cold either for riding 
or driving in the park. There was not any remarkable 
amount of gaiety, but now and then a dinner, or a 
ball, or a theatre party, helped to keep the evenings 
from becoming monotonous, for Agatha’s month had 
stretched out through the winter, and spring found 

L 


146 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


her still with her friend. Miss Penn’s wedding was the 
great event of the 3bason. The marriage took place in 
church ; and after the ceremony there was a grand 
reception at her mother’s house ; and after the reception 
a collation to the favoured few. Agatha, with Mr. and 
Mrs. Belcher, were at the reception. So was Mr. Jenkins, 
who had come over from New York to be one of Mr. 
Atherton’s groomsmen; and Miss Lennox, who chanced 
to be staying a few days in town on her way to Wash- 
ington ; and the ‘ charming widow,’ Mrs. Barlow. So it 
chanced that Agatha found herself in a group, some 
of whom had been her guests at Newport ; and among 
them was Mr. Davenport, who belonged to one of the 
oldest and best of old Philadelphia families. Ormus 
Davenport he had been christened, after the ancestor 
from whom he had descended in an unbroken male line, 
and who had lived in the time of William the Con- 
queror. The large seal-ring which he wore on his third 
finger was an heir-loom, and bore a man’s head in 
profile, couped at the shoulders, with a rope around the 
neck. This same rope afforded a theme for endless 
jests, to friends as well as foes ; but Davenport was 
too sensible a fellow to feel annoyed, and often joined 
in when his anti-republican tastes were commented 
upon. That his ancestors had been what the rabble 
call ‘ bloated aristocrats,’ did not cause Davenport to 
think any more nor any less of himself ; but the know- 
ledge that they had been men of worth, foremost among 
the men of worth of their own day, filled him with the 
laudable ambition to be worthy of them in his day and 
generation. As he stood near Agatha, looking down 
upon her with unmistakable admiration in his eyes, she 
asked,— 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


147 


4 Who is that lady, with a dress as refined as her 
face ; and both dress and face as lovely as possible ? * 

4 The one talking with Miss Lennox ? Mrs. Stan- 
hope. She made a narrow escape from being a beauty, 
did she not ? ’ 

* I should say she had not escaped. She has that 
beauty of soul which attracts more than the beauty that 
lies in mere regularity of features and brilliancy of com- 
plexion. She reminds me, I can’t tell why — just a 
suspicion only — of Mrs. Tracey,’ said Agatha. 

4 Now, you have “ hit the nail on the head,” to use a 
trite expression. Their grandmothers were sisters. 
Mrs. Stanhope’s grandmother on her mother’s side was 
a Winthrop, and so was Mrs. Tracey’s,’ replied Mr, 
Davenport. 

* How droll!’ said Agatha, looking intensely amused. 
4 How very droll that you, Mr. Davenport, should know 
who Mildred Tracey’s grandmother was, and that 
I should never have known that she had a grandmother, 
even ! Why, I could not tell to save my life what the 
maiden name of my grandmother was on my mother’s 
side.* 

1 Which shows that you share with many others 
an indifference to family records that you would not 
evince in the lineage of a lower form of creation. Now 
were you going to buy a thorough-bred, would you not 
wish to know the pedigree of the animal ? * he asked. 

‘ I cannot say I should. If the thorough-bred pos- 
sessed the qualities that I wished in a horse, I would 
not care to have his pedigree.’ 

‘ But you see,’ pleaded Mr. Davenport, ‘ it would add 
so immensely to his value if he had been sired by some 


148 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


famous trotter, that you ought to wish to know all about 
him just for his marketable value/ 

4 Ought I ? Well, it only goes to show how my 
education has been neglected ; for unless I wished to 
sell the animal, I would not give an old glove to know 
whether some far-off, dead sire suited me, as long as the 
iving colt did. But even admitting that I ought to , 
it does not hold good that I ought to feel an interest in 
the grandparents of my friends ; for men and women no 
longer possess a marketable value in our country.’ 

4 But then, to change the simile, if you know the 
roots of a tree to be good, you are pretty sure that the 
fruit will be sound,’ persisted Davenport. 

4 If I find the fruit good, I do not care to know any- 
thing about the roots. They are out of sight, under- 
ground with our ancestors ; and to my way of thinking, 
God never intended that we should waste our time 
digging down amid their bones and dust, or after decaying 
roots, to find out the nature of things that are wisely hid- 
den from our sight,’ answered Agatha, with equal warmth. 

Mr. Davenport pulled at his long, golden-red mous- 
tache, and looked pained, as well as perplexed, at this 
announcement of heterodox views from one who was 
4 every inch a lady.’ Agatha continued, 

4 1 value my friends for the good and attractive quali- 
ties that they possess, and not for the qualities that their 
ancestors possessed/ 

4 Oh, of course, of course. We all do that, I hope/ 
said Mr. Davenport, still caressing his moustache, and 
wondering, for the first time, what family of Lee, Agatha 
belonged to. Just at this moment, as if divining his 
thoughts, she said, 

4 Now I know you are dying with curiosity, Mr. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


149 


Davenport, to find out something about my ancestors. 
Well, I have no Puritan blood to boast of, nor am I from 
any old Knickerbocker family ; nor yet do I boast of 
having descended from one of your famous Philadelphia 
families, whose names are linked with the earliest history 
of your State ; but ’ 

Here Mr. Davenport interrupted her : 

‘ I beg, Miss Lee, that you will hold a higher opinion 
of me than to imagine it to be necessary to tell me any- 
thing more about yourself than I already know.’ 

* And I beg of you, in return, not to think me so 
ignorant of one of the first requirements — the very first, 
I ought to say, of Philadelphia society. Everyone in 
America knows the saying which has passed into a pro- 
verb, “ In Boston they ask, What does he know? in New 
York, How much is he worth ? and in Philadelphia, Who 
is he ? So I must make a clean breast to you, Mr. 
Davenport. My father inherited his business and a great 
deal of his money from my grandfather, who made for 
himself nearly every dollar that he ever possessed ; for, 
strange to say, he had a genius for business, beginning 
with nothing, and ending with a sum that satisfied all 
his ambition. Yet, though he began life a poor man, he 
had the same weakness that you have confessed in your- 
self ; and, should I ever have the pleasure of seeing you 
again, in our New York home, I will show you a picture 
of the home of his ancestors in England ; a dear, odd 
old place, that I confess to loving myself ; and which 
stands on ground that his family have held possession of 
for more than six hundred years.’ Agatha, declaim as 
she might against pride of birth, could not conceal its 
traces in her eyes, and in the very carriage of her head, 
as she spoke. 


150 


ON DANGEROUS GROVND. 


‘ There! did I not tell you so?’ exclaimed Mr. 
Davenport, recovering his equanimity upon finding his 
pet theory confirmed, instead of exploded, as he had 
feared it was about to be. 

* And now,’ Agatha went on to say, ‘ do me the good 
turn to tell me something about the people here — not 
about their ancestors,’ she added, with a quizzical smile. 
4 Who is that dapper-looking individual, devoting himself 
so assiduously to Miss Lennox ? ’ 

‘Mr. French. He is always in her train ; not that he 
meditates matrimony, but you see Miss Lennox’s fortune 
and position are such, that he feels rather compli- 
mented in being considered one of her admirers. He 
has a weakness for that distinction which is supposed to 
attend upon companionship with persons of distinction.’ 

‘ He is not alone in that weakness ; is he, Mr. Daven- 
port ? ’ 

‘ Good heavens ! he is going to have himself intro- 
duced to you, as sure as I am a sinner,’ was the answer. 
‘ Adieu to our tete-a-tete .’ 

At that moment Miss Lennox approached with him, 
and he was presented to Agatha. 

‘You are the very one, French, to tell Miss Lee who 
all these people are that she has never seen before,’ said 
Davenport, addressing him. Then turning to Agatha, he 
added, ‘ Mr. French you will find as good an institution 
for us as the Almanach de Gotha for Europeans. I will 
wager whatever you like, that there is not a soul in what 
he would call “ society,” concerning whom he cannot give 
us the antecedents, at least as far back as the great- 
grandfathers.’ 

‘ But I do not wish to hear about the great-grand- 
fathers,’ laughed Agatha ; ‘ I want to hear about the 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


151 


people themselves. Mr. Davenport seems to have grand- 
fathers on the brain.’ 

‘ An epidemic that always prevails in this city/ said 
Miss Lennox. ‘ I never come here that I do not feel 
reproached for thinking so little about my own ; but you 
see, Mr. French, we New Yorkers are too selfish to think 
of anyone but ourselves ; are we not, Agatha ? ’ 

Mr. French, ignoring Miss Lennox’s remark, and not 
waiting for Agatha’s reply, answered Mr. Davenport by 
saying, ‘Yes, I do plume myself upon the extent as 
well as the orthodox nature of my information in such 
matters ; and where there has been any great-grand- 
father, I am pretty sure to know it. But society is 
sadly changed in these days through the new people 
whose money has brought them in.’ 

‘ Please spare me a recital who the new people are, 
as well as of dead people’s merits or demerits, Mr. 
French, and tell me about the living. Who is that 
slender man with the interesting face ? ’ 

‘ Really, I beg your pardon, but I do not see any in- 
teresting face. Couldn’t you designate him a little more 
clearly ? ’ 

‘He is quite near you, to the left. Such wonderful 
eyes ! I think I never saw a face with more strength or 
character in it.’ 

It so happened that there was a group of men stand- 
ing near ; and Miss Lennox saying, ‘ I think Miss Lee 
means Mr. Barber,’ drew Mr. French’s attention to a tall 
man with a funereal aspect, very much such a one as an 
undertaker would assume when officiating in his calling ; 
his head slightly and solemnly bent forward, and his eyes 
looking out from under his overhanging eyebrows with 
a sinister expression. 


152 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


‘ Oh, that is Phil Barber. His wife is a New York 
woman ; a ci-devant belle. He is a great beau, and his 
especial province in society is to frown down intruders. 
Do you like his face, Miss Lee ? He always puts me in 
mind of a Jesuit priest in the expression of his eyes, 
and with that little round spot on the crown of his head 
bare of hair/ 

' And who is the slippery-looking creature next to 
him, who only needs an umbrella to stamp him as a 
veritable Paul Pry? I thought I knew all your Phila- 
delphia men by sight,’ said Miss Lennox ; while Agatha, 
speaking at the same time, answered Mr. French’s 
question. 

* Yes, I do like his face amazingly. There is a man, 
if I am not mistaken, Mr. Davenport, who could start 
and sustain a subject of conversation without calling in 
the aid of his grandfather.’ 

* For a very good reason,’ said Mr. French, drily ; ‘ he 
never had one/ 

‘ I thought you said his especial province in society 
was to frown down intruders, Mr. French ? ’ 

'That is just what I did say, Miss Lee/ 

‘ But how did he ever get into society, if his antece- 
dents are so questionable ? ’ asked Agatha. 

6 Why, he pushed his way in, with the help of several 
very important levers. But he had such a deuced hard 
time to get himself established, that, like the sophomores 
at college, who revenge themselves, not upon those who 
cause them all the trials and afflictions of their freshmen 
careers, but upon the luckless fellows whom they find in 
like pitiable circumstances, so Barber now resents the 
wrongs he has endured from his seniors in society, by 
returning the same blows to those whom he finds just 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


155 


without the iron bar that he has succeeded in crawling 
under/ 

‘ Really, I cannot believe that a man whose eyes are 
so full of soul as that man’s can possess so small a 
nature/ answered Agatha. 

‘ You do well to receive Mr. French’s statements with 
some grains of allowance/ broke in Mr. Davenport. 

4 Shall I bring him and present him to you ? ’ 

‘ No, pray do not just now. I do not feel in the mood 
for a tilting match ; but I feel sure that I could not ex- 
change ten sentences with him without his awakening 
me into one. Who is the handsome woman near him ? 
— just to his left/ 

‘ Mrs. Belton. She is divorced, and her husband has 
married again/ 

‘And who is the Bacchante, in a gown of arsenic 
green, and grapes in her hair, around whom all the men 
are hovering, like bees around clover blossoms ?’ 

‘ Mrs. Matthews. She is not divorced, but if I were 
her husband she soon would be.’ 

Miss Lennox, who had been listening, now exclaimed 
triumphantly, 

'There, did you ever hear of such a place for un- 
happy marriages ? * 

Agatha answered sadly, with an abstracted look in 
her eyes, as though her thoughts were far away, 

‘ Without doubt there are many unhappy marriages 
everywhere, but one does not know in a large city like 
New York all that is going on ; while here, w r here it is 
said three hundred families at most comprise what is 
called fashionable society, everything is canvassed and 
made public. I do not believe there is any more unhappi- 
ness here than elsewhere, only that people discuss the 


154 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


affairs of others more than we, who have little enough 
time to think of ourselves, in the whirl that we are 
kept in.’ 

* That is just what it is,* said Mr. French ; ‘ and as a 
natural consequence of such a state of things, people often 
know more about us than we know about ourselves. Now, 
I heard only this morning that Miss Lennox and I were 
engaged to be married ; and I did not take the pains to 
dispute it, hoping that it might become true in time. 
What would you say were I to propose to make love to 
you, Miss Lennox?’ 

1 1 would say that it was not worth while for you to 
take the trouble,’ she answered drily. 

At this moment Mrs. Belcher came for Agatha, and 
while standing by her side, for she had risen, Mr. Barber 
came up and asked Mrs. Belcher to introduce him to 
Miss Lee. When presented, he said, 

‘ I am not only happy to make your acquaintance, 
Miss Lee, because I have so frequently heard you spoken 
of by our mutual friend, Mr. Bartholomew, but because 
I have a claim upon you of kinship.’ 

‘ Is it really so?’ asked Agatha. ‘ I believe blood is 
thicker than water ; and I confess to having had a feeling 
that I should find you congenial if I ever came to know 
you, during the half hour that I have seen you standing 
near. But I did not dream of any relationship.’ 

‘There is, however, though very distant. On my 
mother’s side I am descended from the Lees of High 
Legh, in Cheshire, England ; and Mr. Bartholomew has 
told me that your father is a lineal male descendant. 
Will you allow me to see you to your carriage ?’ * 

They followed Mr. Davenport, who had Mrs. Belcher 
on his arm ; and before they drove off, both of the men 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


155 


had accepted Mrs. Belcher’s invitation to her opera box 
the following evening. 

4 Did you ever know anything so droll/ asked Agatha 
of Mrs. Belcher, ‘ as that Mr. Barber should turn out to 
be a relation of mine ? And then they had just been 
telling me that he had no grandfather, and had pushed 
himself into society, and I don’t know what all.’ 

‘My dear/ said Mrs. Belcher, putting her hand on 
Agatha impressively, ‘ my dear, never believe one word 
that you hear about anyone’s antecedents in this town. 
Mr. Barber is a great favourite with all the women, and one 
of the very few really intellectual men here ; consequently, 
the men are down upon him ; and only that it would be 
going too far, some of them would deny that he had ever 
had any mother. The next thing, now he has given 
out that he is descended from the Lees of High Legh, 
they will ridicule him for his descent. I never saw such 
a race of people. They scoff at one for being low-born, 
and when one proves that he is not, they ridicule him be- 
cause he has pride of birth. Now, we New Englanders 
are at least consistent ; we acknowledge the claims of birth, 
and we expect to find in people of good ancestry, ambi- 
tion to keep up the culture of past generations, as well 
as that self-respect which leads one to respect the rights 
and claims of others. But here, culture has nothing to 
do with what they call family pride.’ 

‘You speak feelingly, Edith.’ 

‘ I have reason to speak feelingly, for this state of 
things is so cramping and narrowing, that when I think 
my children will be in time brought under its influence, 
and even are now, young as they are, I do not know how 
to bear it. There is scarcely a week that passes that 
they do not come to me with some fiction that has been 


156 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


retailed to them about themselves or others ; not that I 
care a button for what is said, but for the influence that 
it has in moulding their characters. To think, too, that 
it is so contrary to the spirit of our institutions ! Why, 
we are worse off than if we had titles of nobility. Then 
there would be no mistakes made, such as are common 
now — calling people “ new,” and “ parvenus,” whose 
families are five times as old as the families of those who 
call them so. Either advocate titles, I say, or take every 
man and woman for a gentleman and lady, and treat 
them as such, until their conduct proves them not to be. 
None of this absurd digging up of decaying roots, to 
get at their odour, before you can tell the scent of a 
Jamestown weed from a rose. But here we are, and let 
us drop genealogy and everything connected with it, for 
John despises, as much as I do, the false pride that is 
engendered here in connection with pride of ancestry. 
So far removed as it is, too, from all republican ideas ! 
As if any man born a gentleman, who has acquired the 
culture of one, is one iota less worthy because he pre- 
fers work with independence to idleness in dependence ! 
Such ideas will demoralise any community/ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND , 


157 


CHAPTER II. 

The following evening Mrs. Belcher’s opera box pre- 
sented as distinguished an array of beauty as it was 
possible to assemble together in so small a space. Mrs. 
Belcher herself was still a beautiful woman, with the 
bluest of eyes, wavy golden hair, and cheeks like the 
leaves at the heart of a damask rose. Wrapped in her 
opera cloak of some soft texture of the colour of apple 
blossoms, or perhaps a few tints deeper, like those one 
finds in sea shells, she looked good enough to eat, as her 
husband proudly told her, when she stopped at his 
library door on her way to the carriage. 

Seated in her opera box, Agatha came next, her 
face none the less attractive because of its ivory pale- 
ness. She had, as Carroll Tracey once told her, the eyes 
of a prophetess ; and they shone like stars this evening, 
the music seeming to bring an unwonted brilliancy to 
them. Still, it was the cold brilliancy of some far-off 
planet, that had no suggestion of earth in its light. The 
two young ladies who occupied the other seats in the 
front of the box were the acknowledged belles of Phila- 
delphia society ; still Agatha’s expressive face was not 
thrown in shadow by the side of all their brilliant 
beauty. 

The first act of ‘ Traviata ’ was finished when the three 
men, Davenport, Barber, and Mr. Belcher, left, to make 


158 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


room for the men who came crowding into the box, 
drawn thither by their admiration of some of its fair 
occupants, much to Mr. Barber’s disgust, who thereby 
lost a tete-a-tite with Agatha. 

‘ Have you seen the mysterious stranger in the 
opposite box ? * asked one of them, addressing Mrs. 
Belcher. 

Agatha heard the question, and, looking across the 
house, through her lorgnette, recognised Carroll Tracey, 
so placed that he could not be distinctly seen by any- 
one in the house save that infinitesimal portion that 
occupied the stage boxes. She heard the after con- 
versation as one might hear in a dream, how much their 
curiosity was stimulated to find out who he was, and the 
various conjectures made concerning him, some de- 
claring him to be the image of Carroll Tracey, though 
an older man. While they were still talking, Agatha saw 
him arise and leave the box, and she felt sure he was on 
his way to speak to her. She was not disappointed ; 
but the appearance of a spirit could not more have 
startled the other occupants. After exchanging saluta- 
tions with Mrs. Belcher and Agatha, he sat down by the 
, latter. What magical change had come over Agatha ? 
Her cheeks glowed with the soft, velvety warmth of 
peaches that have ripened in the sun ; her beautiful eyes 
absorbed the light like golden-brown pools steeped in 
sunshine. Mr. Tracey sat through one act ; and then, 
after saying that he would call the next morning to say 
good-bye, as he was going to sail for Europe, he re- 
turned to his box. Mr. Davenport was standing with 
Mr. Belcher, a little back, * but where he could see 
Agatha’s classically cut profile. 

i Miss Lee lights up well,’ he said. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


159 


1 She looks well in all lights/ answered Mr. Belcher. 
' My wife, who, like all women, has a spice of match- 
making in her composition, is already planning how she 
can keep her here long enough to get her interested 
in some one of her admirers ; for she really is very much 
admired/ 

4 1 am told that she is not of the marrying sort ; in 
fact, that she has never had a history of any description, 
and I believe it ; for in the five years that I have known 
her — let me see, is it five years ? — yes, I met her father 
just five years ago, shooting down in the Bayou-Tkhe 
country, and that was where our intimacy first com- 
menced. Well, in these five years, I have never been 
able to make the slightest impression upon her. She 
has odd notions for a woman to hold, and is a perfect 
devotee at the shrine of P latonic love/ 

‘ Platonic fiddlesticks ! I’ll laugh her out of that. 
Go in for her, Davenport, if you have a fancy that way ; 
and I’ll bet ten to one you will win her/ 

Mr. Davenport looked very wise, and resorting to his 
moustache, pulled it first one side, then the other, 
saying, 

6 Colonel Potten once said that a man might as well 
make love to an iceberg as to a woman who is a pro- 
fessed believer in Platonic love ; and after long and care- 
ful observation, I believe the fellow is right/ 

t Oh, hang Potten ! You are enough of a man to 
know that a woman who is an iceberg to one man is the 
sun itself to another. Try Platonic love then with her; 
and if you are as much of a man as I take you for, the 
rest will follow/ 

Davenport shook his head. 4 It is of no use/ he said. 
4 If I am not mistaken, she has found her Platonic lover. 


160 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


I was looking at her from the other side of the house 
when Tracey was talking with her, and I was reminded 
of the fable of Pygmalion. The statue was transformed. 
Do you know what brought him over here ? 1 

* I heard him tell Miss Lee that he came over to say 
good-bye to her before sailing for Europe. He has 
applied for a divorce, I hear, on the ground of incom- 
patibility of temperament. I wonder if he knows of the 
slander, that everyone attributes to Paul Howard having 
put in circulation, concerning his wife ? ’ 

‘But is it a slander? I had it from pretty good 
authority that he was at the bottom of the divorce ; 
although Tracey chose to shut it up and prefer his suit 
upon another ground.’ 

‘ Miss Lee knows the whole story, and Paul Howard 
had nothing to do with it, she says. There would seem 
to be no end of prospective divorces. That marriage 
that came off yesterday will end in a divorce if I am not 
mistaken.’ 

‘ Or something worse. But, to change the subject, 
do you really think that Carroll Tracey would be so 
regardless of appearances as to come over to see Miss 
Lee while his divorce suit is pending, if there is any 
feeling between them stronger than friendship ? ’ 

‘ Candidly, I don’t think any man stops for appear- 
ances where his heart is interested ; but Miss Lee, who 
is rather strait-laced in her ideas of propriety, would 
not allow him to come if there were any stronger feeling 
than friendship. Of that I am perfectly sure.’ 

‘ Then he has probably run over to advise with her, 
as a friend who knows all the circumstances.’ 

The curtain was now raised, and the third act began. 
Agatha never once looked over to the opposite box. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


161 


but, seemingly absorbed by the ravishing music, sat 
motionless. From the shadow of its curtains Mr. 
Tracey kept his eyes upon her, while with half-closed 
lids she looked as if ready to fall into a magnetic slum- 
ber. It was like a dream to her that he was so near ; 
and to him, it was heaven to see before him her face 
in its peaceful repose. 

There was to be a supper given at Augustine’s, 
after the opera ; but Agatha excused herself on the plea 
of a headache, and went directly home. As she sat 
by the smouldering embers of a wood fire in her 
chamber, wrapped in her warm dressing-gown, she all 
but reproached herself for the happiness that Carroll 
Tracey’s friendship brought her. He had come to say 
good-bye, he was going to put the ocean between them 
but with souls so interlocked as theirs, she feared neither 
distance nor absence. 

* Friendship of all ties most binds the heart/ she said, 
musingly. 4 As long as we both live, so long will I have 
in him just the friend I have always wished for.* She 
had drawn her reclining chair near the fire-place, after 
turning the light so low that everything in the chamber 
had but a dim, shadowy vagueness of outline. A bed of 
coals glowed in the grey ashes on the hearth, and Agatha 
sat, or rather lay back in her easy chair, with her dainty 
little feet stretched out towards the warmth. Such a 
sense of complete happiness pervaded her being, that 
she could not conceive of greater. 4 How well we under- 
stand each other ! ’ she thought. 4 When he looked into 
my eyes to-night, I felt as if he were looking down into 
my heart and reading there how entire and perfect is my 
trust in him. If I only could in some way be of use to 
him ; if I could help him to be strong in these terrible 
M 


162 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


days, when he knows that his wife’s name is being 
bandied about in the mouths of every gossiping man 
and woman ! How hard for a man, with a nature like 
his, to feel that he is an object of pity ! How terrible ! 
Yet his eyes are not half as sad now as in those days 
at Seacliff, when he disclosed to me, little by little, what 
a dreary life his has been. I wonder if ever the time will 
come when he will forget his misery — when it will all 
pass away like a dream. I wonder what I can do to 
help him to forget it. Perhaps he will ask me to write to 
him. Could I — ought I to write to him ? Why could 
I not ? That would indeed be a poor friendship that 
could hesitate about bestowing such consolation as 
friendly letters bring. And what letters I could write to 
him ! No matter how far he goes from me, he will 
always be with me. I have but to close my eyes to feel 
in memory the clinging tenderness of his touch, when he 
took my hand in his to-night. How inexplicable that 
wave of sensation that flowed from my head to my feet, 
leaving every nerve in my body as if attuned to melody ! 
How sweet friendship is ! how divine ! ’ Musing thus 
Agatha fell asleep in her chair ; but even in her sleep 
her thoughts still dwelt upon her intense, devoted friend- 
ship. Carroll Tracey seemed to be walking over a quag- 
mire, and she was hastening after him with a lamp in 
her hand, to light him on his way ; but she was walking 
upon firm, dry ground. Once or twice he seemed to be 
sinking in quicksands, and then stretching out her hand 
to save, he would seize it, and almost drag her from her 
feet. At last they reached just such fair, flowery mea- 
dows as once before she had seen in her dreams, from 
which stretched upwards verdure-clad mountains, the 
tops of which were lost in white fleecy clouds, — stars 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


163 


looking down upon her through them, peering out like 
angel’s eyes. Then she lost sight of him, and of all 
else, excepting a glacier, that stretched out in an endless 
level road before her, over the rough, icy surface of 
which she was walking alone, with no one to support 
her steps, and not a vestige of life around her. So cold, 
so cheerless, so dreary, that she shuddered as she walked, 
feeling the cold of death upon her. 

What bliss to awaken, and find that it was but a 
dream ! There was nothing but grey ashes upon the 
hearth now ; and Agatha really shivered with the cold as 
she nestled down in her bed, where, wearied as she was, 
she soon fell into a profound and dreamless slumber. 


164 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


CHAPTER III. 

It was still early in the day, too early for general visi- 
tors, when Carroll Tracey called at Mr. Belcher’s. Mrs. 
Belcher asked to be excused, and Agatha saw him alone. 
She was glad that it happened so, for she had a great 
deal that she wished to say to him. 

After some common-place conversation, he said, 

‘ Of course you know that Mildred and I have 
separated, and that we are to have a divorce upon the 
ground of incompatibility of temper/ 

‘ I have heard a great deal. I know nothing ; for 
Mildred has not written to me, nor did she come to see 
me when I was at home. I did hope when you saw 
her, and heard from her own lips all that she told me, 
that you would trust her for the future ; and feel with 
me that she has suffered enough to atone for the dread- 
ful wrong she did both you and herself in marrying you 
under the circumstances that she did.’ 

He shook his head. 4 No, no. The Rubicon is passed, 
and I breathe freer than I have for years. You can have 
no conception of the life I led. I might as well have 
been chained to a corpse since that night when my sister 
Agnes overheard her husband’s infamous propositions to 
my wife ; and Mildred admitted that when she accepted 
me she had loved him passionately ; for I see she has 
kept nothing back from you — that you know all/ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


165 


* Yes, I know all. She told me everything ; and, Mr. 
Tracey, do not forget how true a woman she proved her- 
self to be in her answer to him. Remember that his con- 
duct destroyed her love for him. Indeed, I think it is 
cruel in you to cast her off. Forgive me, that I speak so 
plainly ; but I would not be the friend to you and to 
Mildred that I am, did I not say to you what I think/ 

< It would be far more cruel/ he answered, ‘ both to her 
and to myself, were we to be still bound together in the 
eyes of the law, now that Harold Graham is free to 
marry her ; for I do not believe that she has ceased to 
love him. You know that women are proverbially 
lenient to such men — to all men whom they love, in fact. 
It is the men whom they have never loved towards whom 
they are severe and unforgiving. Mildred will marry 
Graham before the year is out/ 

‘ But she cannot marry him ; she cannot marry any- 
one ; for, you know, Mr. Tracey, how explicit our Saviour’s 
commands are upon divorce. Nothing short of infidelity 
divorces a woman from her husband, so as to leave her 
at liberty to marry again. Mildred never can marry 
while you live/ 

Carroll Tracey leaned forward, seizing Agatha by 
the hand. ‘ For God’s sake, don’t say such foolish words ! 
Tell me, you do not mean what you say ! ’ 

* But I do mean all that I say ; I repeat it. No one, 
who is divorced as you and she are to be, ever ought to 
marry again, or ever can, without violating the law of 
God.’ 

He almost threw her hand from him as he arose, and 
paced the room ; his brows knit, his face flushed, and 
his whole manner that of a mai? whose feelings were 


166 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


wrought up to such a pitch of excitement that he dare 
not trust himself to words. 

Agatha looked at him with an utterly bewildered 
look. At last he approached her. 4 1 shall not go to 
Europe/ he said. ‘ If these are your views, I shall stay 
at home to convert you. Forgive me for telling you so, 
but they are perfectly heathenish views to hold ; per- 
fectly heathenish. I came to tell you that before long 
my separation from my wife will no longer be only a 
nominal one, but a legal one ; and to ask you if you 
would write to me while I am abroad — answer my letters, 
I mean. But * 

Here Agatha interrupted him. ‘ This is just what 
I hoped you would ask me. I will write to you every 
week if you wish it. Do not be angry with me for 
thinking as I do. You know our beliefs are a matter of 
conscience ; and I cannot help feeling and believing that 
those who wish to be followers of Christ must obey all 
His commands, and not those that they wish to obey 
only.’ 

‘ Good God ! Agatha, you will drive me mad ! 9 he 
answered, closing his eyes, and pressing the palms of 
both hands over his temples ; the fingers of one hand 
crossing the other on his head. 

Agatha’s face was more than anguished at the sight 
of the unintelligible suffering she had caused. 

4 Why do you feel what I say so acutely ? ’ she asked. 
‘Possibly, Mildred may not think as I do about it ; and 
you know what St. Paul says, “ As a man thinketh, so is 
it to him.” If she feels it to be no sin, to her conscience it 
will be no sin ; but I would sooner hold my right hand 
in the flames until it was burned to a cinder, than marry 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


167 


a man who was divorced for any other reason than that 
given by our Saviour as justifying one. But Mildred 
may not think as I do.’ 

‘ Mildred! what do I care for Mildred ? ’ he exclaimed ; 
then checking himself added, ‘Yes, I do care for her, as 
a brother might care for a sister ; * and as he spoke he 
resumed his seat near Agatha. 

The pained, distressed look passed from her face as, 
looking into his eyes, she said, ‘ Do you think, even if 
Mildred loves Mr. Graham still, that such a bad man 
could make her happy ? ’ 

‘ I cannot talk of Mildred now/ he answered, stretch- 
ing out his hand with the palm outward, as if he were 
pushing away the subject. ‘But, in justice to Graham, I 
will say that he is not a bad man au fond , only a weak 
one ; and God only knows what man would be strong 
under some form of temptation. Goethe’s maxim — “ The 
absence of temptation is the absence of virtue,” may be 
true ; but I would rather be without the virtue, than to 
be sorely pressed by the temptation/ 

‘ I cannot make the allowances that you make for 
such a man ; and I shall use all my influence with Mil- 
dred to prevent her from trusting her happiness with 
him, and I hope * 

‘ Here Mr. Tracey broke in, 

‘ Don’t speak of hope ; you have destroyed all my 
hopes. Agatha, I did not come here to talk of Mildred. 
You never seem to think of yourself, but always of others. 
What has come between us that you no longer divine my 
thoughts before I clothe them with words ? Why is it 
that to-day you seem as far from me as the north pole 
from the south, as far as any comprehension of my feel- 


168 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


ings goes ? It did not use to be so, Agatha. Do you 
not remember the little poem “ Affinitat ” that I left for 
you in the drawer where we kept our translations V 

The cloud that his first words had evoked vanished 
from Agatha’s brow, and her eyes beamed as she 
spoke. 

4 Did you write the poem ? I thought it might be 
some translation that you had forgotten. Was it really 
your own composition ? and did you write it to me ?’ 
she asked, her face flushing, and a dangerous tenderness 
in her eyes. 

How he longed to take her in his arms — at least, to 
call her his darling ; but he restrained himself, and 
answered calmly, ‘ I wrote it when the only ray of 
sunshine that broke through the night of my despair 
was that which dawned on me from your friendship. 
Since then, such hopes have been kindled in my heart, 
that were I to write you a poem now, it would be couched 
in very different language.’ 

Agatha, who had scarcely dared to acknowledge to 
her own heart that she thought the poem might have 
been possibly addressed to herself, felt mingled emotions 
of pleasure and pain in learning that it was so ; but pain 
soon predominated. Could it be possible ? Had she 
not put a wrong construction on his looks and words ? 
This man, whose friendship she had so trusted in ! Was 
he already turning traitor to their friendship, and plead- 
ing for more than she wished to give him ? Carroll 
Tracey ! who was still the husband of her dearest friend ! 
No, she would not give any room in her heart to such 
suspicions. But when he continued, ‘ I came to tell you 
what those hopes are, and then to say good-bye to you, 
until I can claim their fulfilment ; for, Agatha, I know 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


169 


we were made for each other,’ then she knew all, and the 
revulsion of feeling that came over her seemed to be- 
numb her brain, and to fasten upon her heart with a 
dumb ache, as if a serpent’s tooth were gnawing at it. 
Was this the end, then, of her beautiful dream of friend- 
ship ? 

4 It is agony for me to go from you,’ he continued ; 
4 a double agony, knowing what your views are in reference 
to marrying a divorced man. But I believe in destiny, 
and your fanaticism must give way before the strength of 
my passion for you. I will not offend you now by any 
words of love, knowing how you feel ; but when I am 
gone, you will think of me with compassion, and 44 pity 
is akin to love,” you know.’ 

4 Is there no such thing as friendship in this world ? ’ 
exclaimed Agatha with vehemence. 6 No such thing as 
a love of the soul this side of heaven ?’ 

He did not offer to take her hand now. He knew it 
would be useless, but he dropped down upon one knee 
beside her, and threw his arm around the back of the chair 
in which she was sitting. She made a movement as if to 
arise, and then he let his arm fall around her waist, hold- 
ing her down, as he continued, 

4 You must listen to me. Think, it will be the last 
time for such long, weary months — long, weary months 
to both of us. My soul reads yours, and knows that 
which you have not yet acknowledged to yourself, for it 
is my soul that loves you, Agatha ; but as long as the 
soul is held by the body, so long will the senses share 
the love of the soul. I tell you, the love of my senses 
is but as one drop in the ocean of my soul’s love for you. 
You cannot separate them here ; eternity alone can do 
that’ 


170 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


‘Then I will wait for eternity/ she answered, her 
face turned away from him, and one hand vainly seeking 
to loosen his from the grasp in which he held her waist. 
A mouse might as well have tugged to release itself from 
the steel trap that had caught it about its body, so 
firmly did he hold her. ‘ I trusted you so entirely, and 
you have killed our friendship/ she said, her head still 
turned away. 

‘ I have but killed it, to make our love immortal/ he 
answered, releasing his hold of her waist, and suffering 
his aggressive hand to rest for one passing second as 
tenderly and caressingly upon her as the soft calyx en- 
folds some swelling bud or blossom. Then he arose to 
go, and Agatha stood up to receive his farewell, feeling 
herself under the spell of his words and his touch. He 
stooped to kiss her gown, where it lay nearest to her 
heart ; he touched his lips to her hair, that fell in two 
long curls from her coronal braid ; and she stood bewil- 
dered, like one roused from sleep in the middle of a 
dream, the vividness of which causes it to remain as dis- 
tinct as a reality. And then, at last, he took her two 
hands, and held them softly, but firmly, between his own. 
He said something about the uncertainties of their ever 
meeting again in this world ; and the certainty that they 
would, if separated here, find each other in another 
state of existence. Agatha never could recall with any 
distinctness what he said ; for as he held her hands, she 
felt as if her very soul was escaping her — drawn out and 
absorbed by his own. There was a shadowy, dream-like 
memory of soft, warm lips pressed to her forehead, 
which seemed for the moment to have annihilated all 
other memories,, and to have rounded and filled her life 
with a completion of bliss which she had never dreamed 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


171 


of before, and he had gone. Then, and not until then, 
did Agatha know her own heart, and acknowledge that 
it was no wise, calm, cold friendship that she felt for 
Carroll Tracey, but such love as a woman can give only 
once, be her lifetime ever so long. 


172 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Agatha prolonged her visit week after week, at Mrs. 
Belcher’s earnest solicitations. Lent came and went, 
and still she was there, staying now for the Easter- 
Monday party that her friend was going to give. 

Some English writer defines a ball to be an assem- 
blage of over seventy-five persons, where there is dancing. 
Certainly, then, Mrs. Belcher’s entertainment merited 
the name ; and it was as charming as magnificently 
dressed women, beautiful and bewitching girls, plenty of 
dancing men, a wilderness of flowers, and an elegant 
supper can make an entertainment. 

Agatha enjoyed it as thoroughly as it was possible 
for her to enjoy anything in these days ; for, day and 
night, she was haunted by the remorseful reproaches of 
her conscience, in that love, and not friendship, for 
Carroll Tracey had taken possession of her life. But the 
ravishing music, the gay flowers, the whirl of the 
dancers, all conspired to take her out of herself for 
the time, and to stifle the still small voice that had 
of late ceaselessly sounded its warnings. But strive 
as she would to banish from her mind the dangerous 
memories that haunted it — to overcome the passion that 
glowed in her heart like a half-smothered fire bursting 
out anew, and flaming up when least expected, it 
was always there; always smouldering, smouldering, 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


173 


and sending its subtle heat like poison through her 
veins. 

Mr. Davenport, who had been a great deal in her 
society during her visit, and with whom she was upon 
the most friendly terms, looked a little blue over the 
prospect of her near departure. He took encourage- 
ment from the sadness in her face, fancying that upon 
her also fell the shadow of their approaching separation. 
The music had ceased, the ball-room was almost de- 
serted, but still he remained by her side. She longed to 
get away from the glare of the lights — to reach the 
solitude of her chamber. Why did he not go ? 

She was not long left in doubt. The bouquet of rose- 
buds and forget-me-nots which he had sent her lay in 
her lap. Lifting it, he said, 

4 1 might tell you, Miss Lee, that there was not a 
bud in this bouquet that had not a message for you ! For 
of course you understand the language of flowers ; and 
I might say that everyone of these tiny blue flowers has 
a voice if you would but listen. But that is not my way 
of telling you what I have to say.’ 

4 Good heavens ! ’ thought Agatha, ‘ is this man going 
to make love to me ? ’ 

He continued, 

‘ I cannot tell you that you are the first woman 
that I have ever fancied, for that would not be true ; 
nor can I say that you are the first one I have ever 
loved ; but I can say that I have never known one 
whom 1 Here Mr. Davenport became a little em- 
barrassed as he met Agatha’s gaze turned wonderingly 
upon him ; but soon recovering himself, he continued, 
‘ I mean that you are the first woman whom I have 
ever wished to make my wife ; and if you * 


174 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


At this point Agatha interrupted him. ( The flowers 
need no voice to tell me how good a friend you are 
to me, Mr. Davenport. I know it, and I value your 
friendship too highly to wish to exchange it for any 
other sentiment. Do let us always be friends ; do not 
think of any other possibility ; for I do assure you there 
is none. I shall never marry. I have resolved that 
I will live and die a spinster.’ 

At this moment Mrs. Belcher appeared from behind 
the screen of plants near which they were seated. She 
looked as though she would like to retreat, but that was 
not possible, as Agatha immediately addressed her. 
Then Mrs. Belcher said, * I was looking for you, Mr. 
Davenport, to beg you to add your persuasions to mine 
to induce Miss Lee to remain for the assembly.’ 

*1 do not flatter myself that I have any influence 
with Miss Lee. I have asked her once, and she refused 
me,’ he replied. 

‘ Then ask her twice, for women always refuse the 
first time ; that is proverbial, you know,’ said Mrs. 
Belcher, with mischief in her eyes. 

In vain Agatha gave an appealing look, accompanied 
by a slight frown. Mrs. Belcher continued, 

i I have quite set my heart upon having Miss Lee 
remain for the assembly, and she cannot be so hard- 
hearted, I am sure, as to refuse our united entreaties. Can’t 
you offer her some inducement to stay ? Yourself, for 
instance. Pray do, Mr. Davenport.’ 

‘ I have reason to think that she would not consider 
that any inducement,’ he answered, his face rivalling his 
moustache in colour, while Agatha blushed to the roots 
of her hair. Then, and not until then, did Mrs. Belcher 
take in the full meaning of the tete-a-tete that she had 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


175 


interrupted. Mr. Davenport arose, and Agatha, giving 
him her hand, said, 

‘ I never say no when I mean yes ; but you have 
been too kind to me, and you too, Edith, for me to 
refuse any request that I can grant so easily as this one 
of staying for the assembly. We will consider it a 
settled thing that I remain.’ 

Mr. Davenport stammered out a few words of 
thanks, but in such an embarrassed way that it was a 
relief to have him take his departure. 

The next morning, at the breakfast-table, Mrs. Bel- 
cher tried to chaff Agatha a little about the incident. 

‘ I overheard you telling Mr. Davenport that you 
were going to live and die a spinster, which information 
you surely would not have given him if he had not pro- 
posed to make you his wife. Naughty Agatha! how 
could you refuse a man who has such a pedigree, such a 
“ rent roll,” and last, but not least, such a heart ? ’ 

‘Do not call me to account for a sin that I have 
never committed,’ she answered. 

‘ I wish some one would call you to account for the 
sin of advocating Platonic love,’ said Mrs. Belcher. ‘ But 
some day you will meet your fate, and then we will see 
the result.’ 

At the mention of Platonic love, Agatha’s face 
flushed. 

‘ I do not deny that I have been a believer in Pla- 
tonic love, but I am one no longer. I hate the word 
now.’ she said, speaking with her usual candour. 

‘Just listen, John,’ said Mrs. Belcher. ‘This revela- 
tion of Agatha’s is as good as a confession. She has 
trusted to some naughty man’s Platonic love and found 
it a sham.’ 


176 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


‘ That is what all Platonic love is/ he answered. ‘ It 
is all counterfeit, all spurious. It is contrary to the 
laws of nature. There is but one kind of love between 
men and women — one kind, that every other kind runs 
into, if it is left to run its own way. Women may for a 
time believe in Platonic affection, but no man does. 
The woman who plays with it is like one walking over a 
quicksand towards a mirage that she sees beyond it — 
she may be swallowed up by the quicksand before she 
discovers that it is but a mirage that she is in pur- 
suit of.’ 

Agatha made no reply, but Mrs. Belcher said, 

* How severe you are, John, upon poor, innocent 
Platonic love ! ’ 

‘ It is the reverse of innocent/ he answered with 
warmth ; ‘ it is the wolf in sheep’s clothing of this day 
and generation ; it is a humbug that ought to be 
exploded before society is undermined and exploded by 
it. Show me the married man, or the married woman, 
who advocates the doctrine, and I will show you one 
who is untrue to marriage vows in the spirit, if not in 
the letter.’ 

After a moment’s pause in the conversation, 
abruptly changing the subject, Mr. Belcher said, 

‘ Edith, did you know that the Barbers had a party 
last night ? ’ 

‘Not a party ; several who were here last evening 
told me that they found it difficult to get away from her 
little dance.’ 

‘ But why did you not ask them here ? I thought 
Mr. Barber had rather claimed Miss Lee as a sort of 
relation.’ 

‘A very distant one. It never occurred to me to 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


177 


ask them, for Mrs. Barber and I are not in the least 
sympathetic. Surely you have not forgotten the dinner 
that I gave for her married sister, Mrs. March of Boston, 
the first year that we lived here, and how the very next 
year, when Emma Appleton, her sister’s friend, was 
staying with me, she gave as large a party as we had 
last night, and we were all left out. Since then I have 
not invited them, for although I give people the same 
latitude that I take myself when we alone are con- 
cerned, I could not overlook such a want of courtesy to 
my friend.’ 

4 But possibly she may not have liked Miss Appleton,’ 
suggested Mr. Belcher. 

4 Then she should not have accepted my invitation to 
meet her in my opera-box only the week before, as she 
did. No, it was a direct cut to Emma, and the child 
felt it. Agatha, did you know that the Traceys have 
got their divorce, and that people are already talking 
about Mrs. Tracey marrying again ?’ 

* How can people get divorced so easily ? ’ asked 
Agatha. 

‘ Money and influence can do anything in these 
days ; they say that there was no trouble in this case, 
as one seemed as anxious as the other to be free. 
But the drollest part of it is that everyone thought she 
would marry Paul Howard — he was the lawyer whom 
her guardian employed — but it seems that she absolutely 
refused to have any communication with him, and that 
his partner was obliged to hold all the necessary inter- 
views with her.* 

‘ And yet people said they had eloped ; she and 
Paul Howard, I mean. Do you not remember, Edith, 
that you told me so when I first came here ? ’ 

N 


178 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


‘ Yes, and it is another lesson not to believe all that 
one hears. I wonder that we ever believe anything, 
when we find that we have been taken in so often. 
What are you going to wear to the assembly ? I wish 
you to look your very best/ 

‘ Shall I tell you what to wear ?’ asked Mr. Belcher. 
‘ At least shall I tell you the colour that suits you best ? * 
‘ I did not know that you knew one colour from 
another/ answered Agatha. ‘ I will be glad to hear 
your views ; but I think I will have to wear a pale Mas 
ros/e, with a Valenciennes over-skirt, for it is the only 
fresh gown that I have left/ 

Rose is your colour, and I daresay the lilac will 
have the same effect. It goes marvellously well with 
your hair, skin, and eyes/ 

‘Well, I declare, John ! I think you must be smitten 
with Agatha. You have never said as much tome in all 
our married life. Agatha, I am glad that your dream of 
Platonic love is ended, for really I should feel anxious 
about my husband if it were not. You are a dangerous 
person to have around/ 

‘ How can you talk so absurdly ? ’ said Agatha 
‘Not so very absurdly, after all that I heard last 
evening. Do you know, my dear, that you have the 
credit of having bewitched Carroll Tracey with those 
wonderful eyes of yours ? He told some one that you 
had the eyes of a prophetess/ 

‘ I never heard that a prophetess bewitched any- 
one/ answered Agatha, with an attempt at calm- 
ness that it was difficult to sustain with such a tumult 
within as Mrs. Belcher’s words had awakened. She felt 
as if a bomb-shell had exploded at her feet ; but so 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND 


179 


entirely did she retain her self-possession that her friend 
never suspected the force of the shaft she had sent. 

The night of the assembly ball came around. It was 
delayed that year until the Easter holidays ; and the 
weather was most propitious ; not too warm to dance with 
comfort and pleasure ; nor yet too cold to prevent enjoy- 
ment of a promenade through corridors lined with 
odorous acacia and citron plants, the green branches of 
which were laden with flowers. Great pains had been 
taken to prepare the ball-room in the way of decora- 
tions and embellishments, exceeding those of any pre- 
vious year, and to make it as worthy as possible of the 
fair matrons and charming belles who weie to assemble 
there upon this occasion. The result was all that could 
be desired. 

Between nine and ten o’clock carriages rolled swiftly 
up to the Locust Street door of the Opera House, and 
after setting down their occupants, as swiftly rolled away. 
The dressing-rooms were soon filled to overflowing, the 
lights sparkled and flashed, and flooded the ball-room ; 
the music undulated in long waves of harmony ; the hot- 
house plants that concealed the musicians, and that 
lined the corridors, gave out voluptuous odours, and 
enlivened by their blooming beauty the scene that was 
soon to be one whirl of rushing gaiety — a grand carnival 
of pleasure. The current at last set towards the doors 
of entrance ; and then, what a stream of blooming 
matrons, lovely girls, and well-dressed, distinguished- 
looking men swelled the tide! To the strains of an in- 
spiriting march the assemblage pursued its promenade, 
here and there a few falling off to occupy some nook for 
a tete-a-tete } or for the purpose of securing seats from 


180 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


which they could enjoy the brilliant scene at their leisure. 
Then the band broke into one of Strauss’s delicious 
waltzes, and the promenading ceased. 

Mr. Barber was the first to ask Agatha for a dance. 
Her gown was exquisitely becoming, and she had never 
looked to better advantage than when she with Mr. 
Barber — who well knew how to hold his partner— had 
floated off together. Mrs. Barber, who was a ci-devant 
New York belle, with flossy blonde hair, phosphorescent 
eyes, and white glistening teeth that were for ever visible 
from behind her short upper lip, was standing near, 
leaning upon the arm of Mr. Marston, a middle-aged 
beau, who, in his search for a wife, had never yet been 
able to find a woman sufficiently perfect to meet his 
ideas ; but as Agatha swept past, he exclaimed enthu- 
siastically, 

‘ Who is that queenly creature waltzing with your 
husband ? ’ 

‘ Do you call her queenly ? I think she is very com- 
monplace. ’ 

‘ Au contraire\ she is of a most uncommon style; 
her neck and arms are the most delicious pieces of flesh 
and blood I have ever had the good fortune to see. 
Commonplace ! why she is a Juno, a perfect goddess ! 
Do you know who she is ? ’ 

4 Oh yes, she is a Yankee, whose grandfather made 
some money and removed his family to New York to 
spend it ; old Ashbel Lee ; I daresay you have heard 
of him, he left an enormous fortune,’ she said, a wicked 
light dancing in her eyes. 

* I do not care about her grandfather, but herself. 
What is her name ? Is Lee her father’s or her mother’s 
name ? 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


181 


‘Her father’s. Her name is Agatha Lee. She is 
staying with those horrid Belchers — such vulgar, pushing 
people that I do not have anything to do with them. 
Miss Lee is not considered the least of a belle, or a 
beauty either in New York ; but she is rather striking- 
looking, is she not ? You know she is the one who had 
an affair with Carroll Tracey that ended in his wife’s 
getting a divorce from him.’ 

‘ On the contrary, it was he who got the divorce ; and 
his wife gave him cause to get it, if all that is said of 
her is true. She is going to marry Paul Howard, I 
hear.’ 

‘ I do not know about that ; but I do know that 
Carroll Tracey has been over here to see Miss Lee since 
she has been staying with the Belchers. She is very sly, 
I fancy. Still waters run deep, you know.’ 

‘Mrs. Belcher is a distant connection of mine. I 
must ask her what foundation there is for such a story ; 
if there is none it ought to be nipped in the bud ; 
and I shall avail myself of my relationship to ask for 
an introduction at the same time. I have been in New 
Orleans the last month, or I should have known sooner 
that Miss Lee was staying with her.’ 

Mrs. Barber, thoroughly discomfited by hearing that 
Mr. Marston was a connection of Mrs. Belcher, after the 
remark she had made about them, scarcely knew what 
to say ; but espying Mr. Dexter and Mrs. Barlow near, 
she turned the conversation upon them. Her heightened 
colour alone revealed the annoyance that she experienced 
at her mistake. ‘ Look at Mrs. Barlow ; what she can see 
in that man to fancy is more than I can divine, yet you 
see that something serious is really going on.’ 

Mr. Marston looked in the direction indicated, and 


182 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


espied Mrs. Barlow and Mr. Dexter apparently quite 
absorbed in each other. The Dexters were old friends 
of Mr. Marston, and when some gentleman came up to 
claim Mrs. Barber for a dance, Mr. Marston looked 
around for the wife ; feeling sure she was within the 
range of vision, for the reason that she never failed 
under any circumstances to keep one eye on her hus- 
band. He was successful ; and joining her, was soon 
enlightened with regard to the merits of the various 
gowns that were worn on the occasion ; for Mrs. Dexter 
had the eye of a connoisseur, or couturiere y for deciding 
which were new, and which were renovated for the occa- 
sion. At last Agatha came under her scrutinising gaze. 

‘ That is a new gown that Agatha Lee has on ; bran 
new, I am sure of that. Her father is said to be worth 
a mint of money, and I daresay she has a new one for 
every ball. You know whom I mean, don’t you ? The 
New Yorker, who is staying with Mrs. Belcher. She 
really looks handsome to-night. Mr. Dexter and Mr. 
Lee are great friends.’ 

‘ I never saw her before to-night, but to my eyes she 
is the handsomest woman in the room, taking figure as 
well as face into consideration ; and yet, she is not what 
would be called a beauty ; but she has eyes like a Sibyl, 
and a form that would make the fortune of a sculptor if 
he did but copy it.’ 

When forms came under discussion, Mrs. Dexter 
looked uneasily in the direction of Mrs. Barlow and her 
husband, reminded of her by the fact that she possessed 
a figure very much admired by the men, while her own 
was not moulded after that of a Venus. She caught 
such an interchange of glances between them as to 
thoroughly discompose her ; and bravely determining 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


183 


to put an end to that flirtation, she asked Mr. Marston 
to take her to her husband. 

They also seemed to have been discussing Agatha, 
for as Mrs. Dexter approached them, leaning on Mr. 
Marston’s arm, Mrs. Barlow, after the first greetings, 
said, 

4 We have just been saying how lovely Agatha Lee 
looks to-night. She has a different look in her face ; 
some change has come over her. Until now, she has 
always seemed to me like one of those fabled beings 
who are born without a heart, or without a soul, or with- 
out something, whatever it is, that does not come to 
them until they love or are beloved, which is it ? ’ 

4 I have never found her wanting either in heart or 
soul. She is not the least of a flirt, and has never had 
her name coupled with that of any man, which is a most 
unusual thing in this day,’ replied Mrs. Dexter, intending 
to be very severe. 

4 How much amusement she must have lost ! ’ rejoined 
Mrs. Barlow. 4 Some one has said that the sinners have 
the best time in this world, and the saints in the next ; 
so I suppose she will have her good time hereafter/ 

4 If I were to venture an opinion,’ said Mr. Marston, 
4 1 would say that she looks as though she were equally 
removed from the one and the other. 44 A creature not 
too wise nor good for human nature’s daily food.” I 
would be willing to wager that it was just such a kind of 
woman of whom Steele said that to have loved her was a 
liberal education. 5 

4 Why, Marston, I never knew you so enthusiastic 
about a woman before,’ said Mr. Dexter. 

4 1 beg your pardon ; I am always enthusiastic over a 
beautiful woman, a beautiful painting, or any beautiful 


184 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


work, whether of nature or of art. In fact I am always 
in love ; and I console myself for my folly by remember- 
ing that Thackeray said that without love he could fancy 
no gentleman/ 

‘ You talk in this way, and yet, there you stand, 
yourself an evidence of the hollowness of your profes- 
sions ; for are you not a bachelor ? ’ laughed Mrs. Barlow. 

‘ I am not to blame, madam, that I am not a married 
man. It is my misfortune, not my fault. No woman 
has ever offered to marry me, and I am too conscious of 
my own unworthiness to offer myself to any woman. 
How could I be so presumptuous ? 9 

They all joined in the laugh that followed Mr. Mars- 
ton’s announcement, Mrs. Dexter exclaiming, 

‘ You certainly have the merit of being original/ 

‘Not at all, for it is my theory that this is why so 
many men remain unmarried. Believe me, there is more 
modesty among men than you think. They are boys, 
not men, whom you hear declaiming that society is 
swarming with girls ready to marry them. My ex- 
perience has been that it is the other way, swarming 
with men trying to marry the girls ; and that the trouble 
is that, like myself, they wish to marry too many of 
them at the same time to be willing to settle down with 
one. Don’t you agree with me, Mrs. Barlow ? 9 

‘ I think it is very naughty of you, Mr. Maiston, to 
advance such principles. There are a good many dis- 
ciples of Bichat in these days. You know he says that 
love is a sort of fever which does not last over two 
years/ 

■ Un caprice enfiamme par des obstacles 9 quoted Mr. 
Marston. 

‘ But then all temperaments are not the same. Be- 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


185 


cause some men are born with fickle temperaments, I do 
not lose my faith in constancy. There are still as good 
fish in the sea as ever were caught, to my thinking.’ 

‘ Only they do not bite as often,’ answered Mr. Mars- 
ton with a quizzical smile. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Dexter had edged around to the 
side of her husband, and they had been indulging in a 
short conjugal tete-a-tete. 

* It is disgusting to see how this woman fastens her- 
self upon you,’ said Mrs. Dexter. It was one of her 
virtues that she never fancied her husband to be the 
aggressor ; it was always the women who were after him. 

4 1 beg that you will be careful what you say. You 
will be overheard,’ he answered. 

Mrs. "Dexter continued, determination in her eye and 
mien, ‘ I am not going to have her devotion to you made 
a topic of conversation. If you take her to supper to- 
night, I will order a carriage and go home.’ 

‘ 1 shall be very sorry to have you go without your 
supper, but having already invited her, I shall be com- 
pelled to remain.’ 

‘ She having already invited you, you mean ! ’ 

This was the true state of the case, Mrs. Barlow hav- 
ing intimated in broad terms her hopes in that quarter, 
but Mr. Dexter was too much of a gentleman to admit 
such a possibility, and he replied, 

‘ I mean just what I say, Emily ; and I advise you 
not to interfere in such matters.’ 

A lull in the dancing gave opportunity for another 
promenade, and Mr. Dexter offered his arm to Mrs. 
Barlow and walked away. They found a shaded little 
recess in one of the corridors, and Mrs. Barlow, always 
ready to * improve each shining hour,’ gave herself up 


186 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


to the sentimental, looking quite ready to glide into the 
tender ; when again, Mrs. Dexter hove in sight, all sails 
set, and seemingly determined to carry all before her. 

* Mrs. Barlow, will you allow Mr. Dexter to take me 
to my carriage?’ she said, looking as though she ex- 
pected opposition. 

* Certainly, with the greatest pleasure in the world, 
provided you do not keep him too long. He has pro- 
mised to take me to supper. You know what Phila- 
delphia suppers are, Mrs. Dexter, and I should be incon- 
solable if deprived of mine for want of an escort.’ 

Mrs. Dexter felt, as she afterwards told her husband, 
‘ as if she could put a pin in the creature’s neck,’ but not 
to be outdone in seeming civility, she answered, 

< I am sure there is no danger of Mrs. Barlow’s ever 
being left without an escort. She understands too well 
how to secure them.’ 

It was not Mrs. Dexter’s fault if Mrs. Barlow put a 
wrong construction upon these words. 

Mr. Dexter, excusing himself, took his wife to the 
dressing-room, where, however, matters were so amicably 
arranged, that they were both enabled to enjoy Augustine’s 
famous croquettes and delicious terrapin, to say nothing 
of the Roederer, with which the managers of the assem- 
blies regale those who attend their charmingly appointed 
fetes. One may travel over the world and return with- 
out finding another town or city, where the suppers can 
vie with those given at Philadelphia balls ; and though 
one should pursue researches for more charming women, 
or for girls with more beauty, equally far, they will re- 
turn to give the palm to the Quaker city. 

4 Mrs. Barlow felt just a little piqued when she saw 
Mrs. Dexter returning ; but not so much so that she 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


187 


failed to enjoy her supper. Refusing to go down to the 
supper room, she implored Mr. Dexter to bring her sup- 
per up to her. Accordingly, he left her for that purpose, 
returning with a plate laden with eatables in each hand, 
a napkin over his arm, a bottle of champagne under it, 
and two glasses peeping out from his waistcoat. While 
absorbed in their supper to the extent of being regard- 
less of their opportunity to pursue their flirtation un- 
molested by any fears of Mrs. Dexter’s undertaking a 
reconnoissance they heard the sound of voices from be- 
yond the screen of plants where they were seated. 

4 Who is her partner ? Davenport, I daresay. I 
thought he would lead the cotillion with her.’ 

4 Not a bit of it. French leads with Mrs. Barber. I 
do not know how true it is, but I hear that Davenport 
has gone home — that he got into a row with French/ 

4 1 saw him looking like a big thunder cloud, or rather, 
as if he had that ancestral rope of his around his neck, and 
was on his way to be hung, edging himself through the 
crowd in the lobby, just before supper. What has gone 
wrong with him, I wonder ? * 

4 1 can’t vouch for the truth of what I tell you, but I 
heard he had taken offence at something French had 
said about Miss Lee. I believe she was mixed up with 
the Traceys and their divorce in some way/ 

Then the voices grew more distant and died away. 

4 Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt 
not escape calumny/ quoted Mrs. Barlow. 

4 So Davenport is another victim, is he?’ said Mr. 
Dexter. 6 As well as I like Miss Lee, I cannot under- 
stand how such a cold, unimpressionable, statuesque wo- 
man can make the impression that she seems to on men. 
Now, there is Mrs. Belcher with whom she is staying, she 


188 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


is a woman to make a man feel as though he would give 
ten years of his life to get a kiss from her/ 

4 Fie ! fie ! I am ashamed of you. What would 
Mrs, Dexter say to hear such a sentiment from your 
lips ?’ 

4 I do not propose to distress Mrs. Dexter with any 
such sentiments, I have too great a regard for her peace 
of mind, and — ahem ! for mine own also/ 

4 But do you really prefer blondes ? I think they 
always have such a namby-pamby look/ asked Mrs. 
Barlow. 

4 They look as though they could let their husbands 
rule if it came to the point as to which should be master/ 
4 But no clever woman would allow matters to come 
to such a sharp point as that would be. You know what 
the poet says about seeming to obey ? Men are beauti- 
fully managed when they assert their power and claim it 
as their right on all occasions. Their wives are sure to 
deceive them. The true secret of happy matrimonial 
alliances is never to preach obedience and submission, 
and all that sort of humbug, but to let life go on as it 
should with mutual concessions. Ah well, it is easier to 
preach than to practise ; but I often feel that if I had 
had but half a chance, I would have been a very different 
woman. As it is, 44 1 know the right, and still the wrong 
pursue !”’ Mrs. Barlow sighed as she spoke, and some- 
thing very like tears glistened in her eyes. 

4 This is a new role for you/ said Mr. Dexter, who 
never had much to do with sentiment, excepting when he 
turned it to his own use in others. She saw the look of 
amusement that flitted over his face. 

4 Do you fancy that I never have any serious moments 
nor any hours in which I loathe my life, and wish that 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


189 


excitement were not as necessary to me as stimulating 
drinks to the inebriate ?’ 

‘ Don’t get on to that strain. It does not pay ; life is 
short, make the best of it/ answered Mr. Dexter. 

‘ But I am making the worst of it, and am fully con- 
scious that it is so. However, I shall not trouble you 
with my moralising. Fill up my glass, and we will 
drink death to the blues. What is Cilly Apthorpe doing 
— groping about those chairs so long ? 9 

‘ I daresay he is arranging his seats for the cotillion.’ 

* He is taking time enough to do it. Here comes 
Mr. Marston.” 

4 This is the second time I have seen him reconnoi- 
tring. He does not see us, but evidently his eye is on 
Apthorpe.’ 

Just then, Apthorpe crossed over, and disappeared 
through one of the doorways that led into the lobby ; 
and Mr. Marston, who had been standing at the farther 
door, watching his movements, walked to the chairs, and 
examined separately each card attached to them. Pre- 
sently, there was a movement among the human par- 
terres of flowers that filled the staircase, terrace upon 
terrace — it was as if a summer breeze had blown over 
beds of blossoms, rippling their variegated petals ; gos- 
samer folds swayed here and there, ribbons like tendrils, 
fluttered in and out ; the rose-buds and lilies, and pansies, 
the violets and snow-drops and daffodils floated up as if 
borne onwards by the breeze ; followed closely by the 
maturer dahlias, Queen Margarets, gorgeous tropical 
flowers, in almost endless array, until once more the ball- 
room was ablaze with beauty as well as flashing light. 

The cotillion was about commencing. Nearly all 
were seated, excepting Agatha, who was to dance with 


190 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


Mr. Bartholomew, he having come over from New York 
for the purpose of attending the ball. She was standing 
quite alone in front of a group, and her partner en- 
deavouring to discover which particular chairs were those 
that he had selected before going down for supper. Mr. 
Bartholomew, at first perfectly cool and self-possessed, 
was now getting a little flushed and excited, when his 
attention was arrested by a smothered laugh near him. 
Looking around, he saw a lady with her handkerchief 
pressed to her face dividing her glances between Agatha 
and himself. Agatha observed it also, but instead of 
disconcerting her, it only increased that frigidity of 
manner, which many called haughtiness, as she walked to 
the first empty chair and sat down. No duchess could 
have carried herself with a statelier air. 

‘Will you allow me to look at the card on your 
chair ? ’ said Mr. Bartholomew, addressing the partner of 
the damsel whose amusement at his discomfiture had 
betrayed her breeding ; for that it was anything more 
than that, never entered Mr. Bartholomew’s mind. 

‘ Certainly,’ and the young man immediately arose 
and showed a card on which was written, ‘ C. Apthorpe.’ 

‘ It is very strange, very strange indeed. I am quite 
sure that I chose these very seats, as being directly op- 
posite the principal entrance door. Why, Apthorpe, you 
were with me when I attached my card.’ 

‘ Really, I was so occupied with my own that I did 
not look to see where you took yours. Probably a little 
farther on.’ 

So a little farther on to the right, and a little farther 
on to the left, Bartholomew searched, but in vain. Then 
he appealed to Mr. French, as the leader of the cotillion. 
Mr. French positively could not help him, for so many 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


191 


more had already applied to him for seats than the room 
would accommodate. Agatha motioned to him, saying 
when he joined her, ‘ I really do not care to dance to- 
night ; do not give yourself any farther trouble, unless 
you will be disappointed.’ He gave her his arm, and 
they crossed the room, and were about passing out to 
the corridor when one of his acquaintances called to him. 

‘Where are you going ? Here are your seats. I took 
mine expressly to be next to Miss Lee.’ 

Mr. Bartholomew could scarcely believe his eyes. It 
was like a feat in legerdemain. There, in the remotest 
possible corner from the seats he had chosen, half hidden 
from sight by a jutting column, were two unoccupied 
chairs with his card attached to them. They took their 
places as quietly as if everything had been as they 
desired ; for Mr. Bartholomew was too much of a gentle- 
man to make a scene in the presence of ladies, no matter 
how great the provocation. 

Many times during the cotillion, gentlemen wishing 
to take Miss Lee out, went to Mrs. Belcher to ask where 
she had hidden herself. 

Mrs. Belcher felt vexed with Mr. Bartholomew for 
having made such a bad choice of seats ; and she so ex- 
pressed herself to Mr. Marston the following morning, 
when he came to call upon Miss Lee, telling her that he 
had vainly tried to find her and have himself presented 
after the supper. Mr. Marston said, 

‘ I assure you Mr. Bartholomew was not in the 
least to blame. I myself saw him choose his seats 
before supper ; and he took them opposite one of the 
entrance doors, near those of the leader. The same 
chairs were occupied by Mr. Apthorpe and Miss 
Toady/ 


192 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


‘ What ! ’ exclaimed Mrs. Belcher. ‘ Are you quite 
sure of that ? ’ her face flushing as she spoke. 

4 Perfectly sure.* 

Here Agatha spoke. 

‘ I did not tell you of my adventure last night, Edith. 
Our chairs were changed, and I was quite unsuspicious of 
any rudeness until I caught Miss Toady’s eye, and the 
sounds of her suppressed merriment. Then I sat down 
by Mrs. Barber, for I knew that laugh meant mischief. 
She was all smiles, but still as I looked in her eyes while 
answering some remark that she made to me, I thought 
of Geraldine’s snake-like eyes, in Coleridge’s poem, you 
know, and the conviction came to me that if there was 
any plot to deprive us of our seats she was in it.’ 

‘ Why did you not tell me of this sooner ? ’ 

‘ I did not thing it was worth mentioning. Besides, 
I knew it would annoy you, and I hoped you would 
never hear of it ? 

Mrs. Belcher turned to Mr. Marston. 

‘ Did you ever hear of such an unprovoked and 
abominable rudeness ? — to a stranger, too ! * 

‘ No, I admit that I never did ; but Miss Lee has 
only herself to thank for it. Had she been less attrac- 
tive, no one would have wished to put her out of sight. 
“ Out of sight out of mind,” — pardon me for quoting a 
proverb — but it expresses the object to be gained by the 
rudeness, I fancy.’ 

* The insult was not meant for Miss Lee ; it was in- 
tended to touch me through my guest, and she has suc- 
ceeded. I never knew before what it is to feel vindictive ; 
and I must confess it is not a comfortable feeling.’ 

Other visitors were announced, and Mrs. Belcher found 
an opportunity to say a few words to Mr. Marston, that 
were meant only for his ear. In return for the confidence 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


193 


thus reposed in him, Mr. Marston gave her a caution in 
reference to the possibility of rumours reaching her, 
connecting Miss Lee’s name with Carroll Tracey’s, in 
order that she might be prepared to meet them. 

At first Mrs. Belcher was disposed to deny such a 
possibility, as well as to resent its having been broached ; 
but after Mr. Marston had detailed his reasons, she 
saw the danger. 

i It is diabolical ! ’ she exclaimed. 

^ It is devilish, passe z-nioi le mot l he answered ; ‘ but 
this is what pretty women come into the world for — to be 
slandered. It is the penalty they must pay for being 
attractive. After all, you used the right word when you 
said diabolical, for in Greek this word stands for calum- 
niator.’ 

1 As I said before, I am not vindictive, Mr. Marston. 
My religion consists in trying to do unto others as I would 
have them do unto me, rather than in being subservient 
to creeds and dogmas ; but this experience, touching me 
through my friend as it could not have done had it been 
any rudeness shown to myself, determines me to know 
the pleasure of revenge for once in my life. I would 
like to see that woman humiliated in some way, and to 
have it in my power to show her in her humiliation the 
contempt that I feel for her.’ 

‘ Everything comes to those who know how to wait/ 
replied Mr. Marston. 

‘ Yes ; and “ rira bien qui rira le dernier ’ 


O 


194 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


CHAPTER V. 

After Agatha's return to New York her first call was 
made upon Mildred. She could not help feeling shocked 
to find her so light-hearted and radiant with happiness. 
When Agatha told her how often she had thought of 
her, and how much she had felt for her, in all that she 
had been through, she answered, 

‘ I assure you that your sympathy has all been thrown 
away ; I have never before been so happy. If you could 
realise, Agatha, what a life of constraint and suppression 
I led as Carroll's wife — the complete repression of the 
best part of my nature ; and then, the never-ending self- 
reproach in that I had made a wreck of his life, as well 
as of my own, you would know the awful relief that it is 
to me to have the long agony over. I can compare it to 
nothing else than to see a form that has been dear to 
you buried out of your sight, when death has robbed it 
of the soul that made it dear. Can’t you understand 
what I mean when I say it is an awful relief to have 
it over! ’ 

* Certainly I can and do ; I see at last that you were 
both quite right.' 

< Of course we were. I never doubted that it was 
a sin to live as we did, in the wrong done to him and to 
myself ; but I shrank from the exposure of a separation; 
pride kept me from it. And then, after all those long, cruel 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


195 


years, in which my loyalty was unwavering, my fidelity 
to the duty that I owed him — duty which is but a thorn 
when all the blossoms of life are stripped from it. That 
was all that I had to keep me right, and yet it did keep 
me right ; and then, to think he so little knew me as to 
fancy that I was unfaithful to him ! He thinks that I 
will marry Harold Graham. How little men know about 
women ! Why can’t they learn that love comes and goes 
without our being able to tell the why and the where- 
fore ? ’ 

Agatha quoted a line from a poem. ‘ That was not 
love that went,’ she said. 

* Well, passion then ; whatever you choose to call it. 
If Harold stood here now, and asked me to marry him, 
I should tell him just what I told him when he proposed 
an elopement, that I have lost every vestige of love that 
I ever had for him.’ 

4 That is all very well for you to say now ; but were 
you to see him, you might find him possessing more in- 
fluence over you than you think. You are young to re- 
main unmarried ; and if you do not think it wrong, as I 
do, for a woman and man divorced as you and Mr. 
Tracey are, to marry again, I see no reason why you 
should not marry ; but I hope if you do, your choice 
will be a better man than Mr. Graham.' 

‘Oh, I do not say I will never marry anyone. It 
would be very hard for me to think of growing old 
without any husband to love me, or children to keep my 
heart young ; but I do say that if ever I marry a second 
time, it will not be from pique. Married life without 
love is a fearful bondage.' 

‘ It must be,’ said Agatha fervently, ‘ and I have at last 
decided to remain a spinster all my days. I am quite 


196 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


sure now, that I will never see a man whom I will be 
willing to marry/ 

‘ I begin to think you never will, but it is equally sure 
that you will never become one of those angular, sour, 
sharp vinegar-cruets, that some old maids are. You 
will be like your Aunt Hester, whom everyone loves, 
and who grows lovelier and more loving every year of 
her life. I am sure you are too good for the best man 
that lives, and you will have to cont nt yourself with 
Platonic love. I can recommend Carroll for that kind 
of love. Have you made any translations during the 
winter ? ’ 

Agatha’s heart gave an awful leap ; or to speak with 
anatomical precision, the muscles of her heart by a 
sudden contraction produced the sensation which persons 
are in the habit of calling a movement of the heart. 
She scarcely found breath to answer, 

4 Only one or two of Heine’s poems. What are you 
reading now ? ’ 

4 1 am reading “ Problematic Characters,” for the 
second time. I have found an Oswald in real life, and I 
am reading the book with renewed interest.’ 

4 1 hope and pray that you are not going to be a 
Melitta.’ 

4 How could I be one ? Melitta had a husband. I 
have none.’ 

4 But remember, Melitta was neglected and deserted 
by Oswald after she had no husband,’ asserted Agatha. 

4 Do not distress yourself unnecessarily, sweet “ Saint 
Agatha.” As a married woman I proved myself to be 
no Melitta ; and I have faith enough in myself to fear 
neither neglect nor desertion, should any Oswald ever 
love me, and be loved by me. But I did not say I had 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


197 


found my Oswald ; only an Oswald. By that I mean a 
man equally attractive, equally gifted by nature, and 
one who, like Oswald, has never yet loved and been be- 
loved by any woman sufficiently good and true to change 
his fickle soul into the faithful one into which it is 
capable of developing when he does meet such a one.’ 

‘ And who is this paragon ? ’ 

‘ That is my secret. But since a fair exchange is no 
robbery, tell me your secret, and I will confide mine to you.’ 
Mildred’s eyes were sparkling with suppressed merriment. 

< My secret ! ’ cried Agatha, her startled soul showing 
itself in her face, ‘ My secret ? What do you mean ? ’ 

‘ Oh, you know very well that you have one. I do 
not wish to force it from you ; but this is certain, as long 
as you keep yours from me, I will keep mine from you.’ 

Agatha felt as though the floor were giving way 
beneath her feet, as though the room were spinning round 
and round ; the very earth seemed to her to have been 
jarred in its orbit, so shaken and stunned did she feel. 

Mildred enjoyed Agatha’s bewildered looks, and 
laughed mischievously ; but finally said, 

€ I may as well tell you that I know all about it ; that 
he has told me all that passed between you, and — but 
good heavens, Agatha, what is the matter with you ? 
You are as white as a sheet ? ’ 

‘ I feel faint ; will you ring for a glass of water ? * 

She rang for the water, brought salts, took off her 
bonnet ; and when Agatha’s colour returned, she said 
tenderly, still kneeling by the lounge where she had 
made her lie down, 

* Can it be possible that you love him ? * 

Agatha threw her arms around Mildred, weeping 
passionately. 


198 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


* I know how well he loved you. Can it be possible 
that you have loved him all this time, and given him no 
hope ? ’ questioned Mildred. 

* Do not reproach me ! I never knew, I never dreamed 
that it was love. It is killing me, it is killing me, to have 
found it out at last,’ she sobbed. ‘ Do not let us talk of 
it ; do not allude to the subject again — it is too humilia- 
ting. Believe me, I did not know it was love. I did not 
know it.’ 

Mildred, looking much perplexed, tried to soothe her 
friend ; but Agatha still kept her face from sight. 

4 Why do you say it is humiliating, dear ? no love 
should be humiliating. Is it because you consider your 
relationship an insurmountable obstacle that you have 
never let him know that you love him ? ’ 

‘ Relationship ? ’ cried Agatha, sitting bolt upright, 
and looking straight in Mildred’s eyes. * Relationship ! 
Of whom are you talking ? ’ 

‘ Of your cousin, of course. Did you not divine 
that he is the Oswald of whom I was telling you ? He 
confessed to me that you are the only woman he ever 

really wished to marry until — before . Oh, Agatha, 

you will be terribly shocked I know ; but I have to make 
a confession ; and you have yourself to blame, for I am 
sure you hastened affairs, by telling him that I would 
marry Graham ; and so he came straight to me and told 
me how jealous he was, and we both acknowledged 
that we had fallen in love with each other ; and I 
told him everything, and he does not love me any the 
less for all that has happened to me. So I have 
promised to marry my Oswald some day ; and I have 
no fear of ever being loved any less — much less of being 
deserted as poor Melitta was.’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


199 


Agatha, with a sigh of relief that came from the 
very core of her heart, only said, 

* This is a revelation.’ 

‘ Darling Agatha, I am so happy that it is not my 
Oswald whom you love, that I do not even care to know 
who your Baron Oldenberg is ; for some profoundly 
mysterious, uncanny Baron Oldenberg, I am sure it is 
to have taken such a hold upon you despite the insur- 
mountable obstacles. Ah, to think that you were going 
to leave me with the impression that you were not 
capable of any love but Platonic love ; well, it only goes 
to prove that the heart is deceitful and desperately 
wicked ; as well as that you are no better than the rest 
of us ; and I love you a thousand times more that it is 
so ; for I do not believe God ever intended any of us to 
be saints in this world. Temptations resisted, wrongs 
endured, and patiently lived down, sorrows borne with 
resignation, will help us in this life to become saints in 
the next ; but never here, never here.’ 

Often in the days that followed Agatha thought of 
Mildred’s words ; and how nobly she had resisted tempta- 
tion, how patiently she had borne her great sorrow — her 
years of death in life, as it were. And in these days Agatha 
was tortured with her memories in that love for a married 
man, in the guise of friendship, had stolen its way to her 
heart, filling life with new meaning, steeping it with rap- 
ture, and in the end teaching her that no one is secure 
from temptation ; but rather that virtue is tested by it, 
as gold by the refiner’s fire. 


200 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Agatha’S first letter from Carroll Tracey was written 
in London, immediately upon his arrival there, and 
reached her about two months after they had parted. 
May had come in most graciously that year, with the 
bluest of skies and the softest of zephyrs. Agatha 
dreamed her days away, living over and over scenes 
that would not be forgotten ; memories of dangerous 
sweetness that she could not expel. It was spring in 
her heart, and because of the lateness of its blossoming 
time, it shot forth all the more riotously its luxuriant 
foliage. It was June, and not May, with Agatha. 

Mr. Tracey wrote that on the voyage over he had 
had ample time to think of all that had ever passed 
between them, and that more than ever was he con- 
vinced that God had created and kept them for each 
other. He begged her not to do violence to those feel- 
ings that he knew he had awakened in her heart, because 
of the false views she held concerning the incomplete- 
ness of his divorce ; and expressed the hope that before 
they met again, Agatha, with her usually clear reasoning 
powers and independent judgment, would bring herself 
to look upon his marriage as not having been one in which 
God had joined together, but rather as one which man 
had impiously made, or rather ignorantly ; not realising 
until too late that every element of a true marriage was 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


201 


wanting. As he looked upon the separation, God had 
sundered the tie which man had unlawfully, in a moral 
point of view, created. And this was the way in which 
he closed his letter: — ‘Two such natures as ours, once 
having been brought together, cannot be kept apart ; we 
would find each other if the deserts of Siberia and 
Sahara were put between us ; and if together, we would 
be happier in those deserts than in Paradise if separated. 
It is rare for twin souls to meet in this world : — that joy 
is left for eternity to most of the denizens of this earth. 
But we, my adored Agatha, must belong to each other 
for time, as well as eternity. I will not give you up for 
any unchristian ideas of what is right, and what is 
wrong ; you belong to me as much as if I already 
possessed you ; and Fate, which is the servant of Provi- 
dence, will bring us together when God wills. In one 
year from the time I sailed, I am going back to you to 
claim you. I do not know how to wait for the time to 
pass away. The days already seem like months, and 
the nights like years. As each goes, I thank God as 
I would thank Him for a priceless gift. Sometimes in 
dreams I hold you in my arms, kissing your sweet eyes ; 
and when I awake to find it but a dream, I wish that 
I could sleep all time away until the hour when I can 

make my dreams reality If you are not 

angry with me, Agatha, my darling Agatha, you will 
answer this letter. You could not be so cruel as to 
refuse to write to me. It would be as though you were 
in possession of a fountain, from the source of which a 
river gushed, (as in the lovely Syrian valley of Barada, 
where the Fejeh rushes in a torrent from the earth,) and 
should refuse to give me a drink if, travel worn and 
thirsty, were I to ask a draught from your hand. I am 


202 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


far thirstier for a letter from you than ever was any 
desert traveller for the water of an oasis ; you are my 
oasis, do not refuse me that which my thirsty heart 
longs for. Write me ever so few lines, but let me see 
the dear writing that, since we made our translations 
together, sends a thrill to my heart, which is only 
equalled by those which your eyes and your touch 
awaken,’ 

And Agatha did answer the letter, but it was purely 
one of friendship. She wrote one that all the world 
might have seen. She told him of Mildred’s health and 
happiness, and acknowledged that she now saw clearly 
that he had been right in insisting upon the separation. 
It was in every sense of the word a commonplace 
letter, for having once resolved to overcome the passion 
that had stealthily eaten its way to her life’s centre, she 
was equally determined to write nothing that could feed 
the dame in Carroll Tracey’s breast. 

Monotonous days passed wearily away, each one 
seeming to leave Agatha’s face more transparent, her 
eyes more full of soul, and her voice more deeply 
freighted with pathetic tenderness. 

Her Aunt Hester, her fathers sister, who resided with 
them, but who had been visiting relatives for nearly 
a year, now returned to make her preparations to go 
with them to Newport for the summer. Miss Hester 
Lee carried her age well ; still possessing so attractive a 
face that strangers often asked who the sweet-faced 
woman was, with an interest seldom shown in one who 
had numbered as many years as she had. Her brown 
hair, nearly as abundant as Agatha’s, had in it a sugges- 
tion of that warm colour which Titian loved so well to 
paint on the heads of his voluptuously delineated forms, 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


203 


and not one silken thread had as yet changed its colour. 
Her eyes, neither grey nor hazel, had the same rich hue 
in their lashes ; and in the eyebrows, which seemed 
darker than they were, because of the creamy whiteness 
of her skin, which had marvellously retained its fresh- 
ness, although never suffused with colour, even in the 
warmest days of summer. 

One morning, when Agatha had gone out, and Mr. 
Lee was sitting alone with his sister, he said, 

4 Hester, do you see any change in Agatha ? 1 

‘Yes, I think she is paler and thinner than I have 
ever seen her/ 

4 That is not the change I speak of. She is always 
thinner after the winter’s dissipation. I scarcely know 
how to describe it. She talks less, has lost a great deal 
of her earnestness, is listless and indifferent to all that is 
going on, is often abstracted — fairly lost at times in 
reveries. In short, there are a thousand and one little 
differences between Agatha as she was and as she is 
now. I feel perplexed and troubled about her/ 

4 1 had not thought of feeling anxious/ replied Aunt 
Hester. 4 She has developed in character very rapidly 
during the last year — that kind of development which 
results from experiences that come sooner or later 
to all/ 

‘You do not fancy that she is in love, or any such 
nonsense ? ’ questioned Mr. Lee. 

4 No, I do not think she is in love ; but I think 
she has reached that stage in her life which brings with 
it the need of a warmer affection, a closer companion- 
ship than any she has yet enjoyed. In fact, I feel quite 
sure she is not in love, because it was only yesterday 
that she told me she had fully resolved she would 


204 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


never marry, and no girl makes that resolution who is 
in love.' 

4 I am glad to hear you say so, for I had begun 
to suspect that there might be something of the sort. 
What do you think of a change of air for her ? — to go to 
Europe for instance ? * 

* Charming ; I wish you would take her ; she has 
often expressed a wish to go, but you are so dependent 
upon your home comforts that we did not think you 
would ever propose it/ 

‘ I have been selfish, I know, for I dread a sea- 
voyage more than I dread death ; but I think we will 
arrange to cross either in July or August, when the sea 
is calmest, if you will go with us, Hester/ 

4 Of course I will. I would not let you and Agatha 
go without me if I could help it. I am very dependent 
upon you both for my happiness. I do hope that if 
Agatha ever should wish to marry you will not be so 
selfish as to oppose it. It is pretty hard to go through 
life a spinster/ 

‘ She might do worse than remain a spinster. There 
are precious few happy marriages to my thinking in 
these days. She is so much like you, that I daresay she 
will never see anyone whom she will love well enough to 
marry/ 

‘God forbid!' exclaimed Aunt Hester fervently. 
‘God forbid that my experience should ever become 
hers/ 

That day at dinner Mr. Lee broached the subject. 

‘What do you say about going to Europe this 
summer ? ' looking as if he felt quite sure of Agatha's 
answer ; but to his surprise, she replied, 

‘ I would like above all things to go abroad, but not 
this summer. That is quite out of the question/ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


205 


1 And why is it out of the question ? I am sure 
there never has been, and never will be, a time when we 
can go as well.’ 

‘ How can you hesitate for one moment ? ’ asked 
Aunt Hester. 

‘ I do not hesitate. I am perfectly decided in my 
own mind. I do not wish to go to Europe this year. 
Next summer we will talk about it/ answered Agatha, 
with irritating coolness. 

‘ That is another thing. If you do not wish to go 
I shall not compel you to go, of course ; but next 
summer I may not be able to take you/ replied hei 
father with an air of equal coolness. 

‘ I hope you will take a few days to think about it 
Agatha/ pleaded her aunt. ‘ You will be sure to regret 
your decision if you allow any whim to influence you/ 

‘ Am I in the habit of allowing myself to be in- 
fluenced by whims, dear Aunt Hester ? ’ she answered, 
with a patient endurance of the reflection cast upon her, 
that once it would not have been in her nature to have 
borne so placidly. 

; I think you are extremely impulsive, my dear ; and 
when one possesses such a temperament, one is very apt 
to repent at leisure all that one has allowed one’s self to 
do in haste/ 

‘ You must trust me that it is no whim this time, and 
that I have a very good reason for putting off going until 
next year, for, as I said at first, it is impossible for me to 
go this summer/ 

Mr. Lee and his sister exchanged a meaning glance, 
and when Agatha had left the room, he said, 

‘ I think I have the clue/ 

‘You are wiser than I then, for I have racked my 
brains in vain/ 


206 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


* I fear she is interested in some one, and will not 
leave until it is settled/ 

‘ Who can he be ?’ asked Aunt Hester. 

‘ Some one whom she has met in Philadelphia this 
winter, I daresay. It can’t be Davenport, for he wrote 
me a touching letter telling me that he had met with all 
sorts of bad luck, and knowing that he had a liking for 
Agatha, I perfectly understand his meaning. Can Potten 
be the man ? * 

‘ No, I am quite sure he is not/ 

‘ You ought to be able to ferret it out, Hester/ 
‘Whether I can is another matter. However, when 
my suspicions are once aroused, I generally see as much 
as most people. She has kept her secret so well, that I 
had not even suspected that she had one. Should she 
give me her confidence, I could not betray it ; but if I 
make any discoveries, you may be sure that you will 
hear of them/ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


207 


CHAPTER VII. 

WHAT an exodus to Europe the summer brought ! Mrs. 
Arthur Gray, Miss Lennox, Colonel Potten, and Mr. 
Jenkins went over in the same steamer. With them 
went a cousin of Mr. Atherton, on his mother’s side, who 
belonged to an old Philadelphia family. Mr. Campbell 
Clawson was a beau of such distinction, that it was 
difficult to imagine how the wheels of society could turn 
in the absence of so important a leader from his post. 
He was a man who, without either much brains or much 
culture, had succeeded in making himself always in de- 
mand. If there was any gossip afloat, Mr. Clawson was 
sure to be the first to know it ; if an engagement was 
pending, he always ferreted it out before the families in- 
terested spoke of it ; no funeral was properly attended, 
no marriage auspiciously celebrated, no christening suffi- 
ciently consecrated, if he were not present. His ideas of 
his own importance were so exalted that had the sun left 
the world in darkness, it could not have caused a more 
depressing influence upon the earth’s inhabitants than 
his departure from fashionable society would leave upon 
those who remained behind. Although of mature age, 
he went abroad for the first time, having had too great a 
regard for society to subject its members to the untold 
inconveniences that might arise from his absence. Look- 
ing up his old French grammar and other class-books, he 


208 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


added to his collection a book of French phrases most in 
common use, hoping to polish his rusty French into a 
state of perfection that it had never yet attained. His 
last words to one of his friends — another leader, who had 
struggled as desperately as himself to drag the ponderous 
car of society — were, 

‘ If you find everything going at sixes and sevens 
without me, old boy, send for me and I will come back 
to you.’ 

By his directions, copies of the daily journals contain- 
ing the list of passengers were sent to various friends in 
Boston and New York, whom he feared would otherwise 
be kept in ignorance of his departure ; and one of these 
Mr. Lee received at Newport. Opening it at the break- 
fast table, he found the list marked, also the following 
paragraph, 

‘ “ Mr. Campbell Clawson of Philadelphia sails for 
Europe to-day in the Cuba. His numerous friends will 
regret his departure, and hope for his speedy return.” ’ 

6 Who could have sent me this ?’ exclaimed Mr. Lee. 

4 What do I care for Campbell Clawson, or whether he 
goes or stays ? But I do care for being kept at home 
just when I wished to go abroad ; you were very un- 
reasonable, Agatha.’ 

Her only answer was a sigh so long and quivering, 
half-suppressed as it was, that it touched her father’s 
heart. 

‘ Never mind, Agatha. I daresay you had a very good 
reason for not wishing to go ; only, when you can tell me 
what it is, my child, I will be glad to know.’ 

Poor Agatha ! the very thought of telling her father, 
suffused her cheeks, her forehead even. She made no 
answer, and Aunt Hester changed the conversation. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


209 


That night Agatha was sitting at the same window 
in her chamber, where she had fallen asleep, dreaming 
of the ideal friendship that she coveted ; and now, 
sitting in the same chair, she recalled the vision that 
came to her in her dreams. As often as she had thought 
of it since, it had never come before her with such vivid- 
ness as now ; awakened into new life as it was by the 
associations of the place. She held in her hand Carroll 
Tracey’s second letter, which had arrived that day, 
and which she had read over and over until she knew 
by heart every eloquent sentence that it contained. 
Although the moonlight flooded the room, it was too 
dark to read it again, as she surely would have done if 
she could have seen the dear words on its pages ; but 
what need had she of written lines when the glowing 
flame of love had burned them in upon her heart ? There 
was no sound, other than the monotonous wash of the 
waves against the cliffs, the gentle rustling of the vine 
which gave out from the hearts of its blossoms the deli- 
cious perfume that filled the apartment, and the chirp of 
one lone cricket that went on as madly as if prisoned 
within its little body were some lost soul, shut out from 
Paradise. Agatha thought of 'Bianca among the Night- 
ingales.’ She repeated, 

They sing for spite, 

They sing for hate, they sing for doom ! 

They’ll sing and stun me in the tomb. 

If the cricket would only stop! but it sang on. She 
longed to be alone, for while the cricket sang she was 
not alone ; the shrill, piping voice shared her thoughts, and 
distracted her. Then the fancy came to her that the 
cricket was sent to distract her from the one subject that 
like a note of warning was sounding in her ears. At 
p 


210 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


last, the cricket chirped itself hoarse, and with one dread- 
ful effort ceased its distracting cry. Then Agatha gave 
herself up to the memories of her dream. Again she 
walked the dusty high-way, hand clasped in hand with 
the one who in the vision had so carefully directed her 
steps, so tenderly cared for and protected her ; but now 
it was no stranger as before. Carroll Tracey guided her 
with unstained feet through the miry soil, his cool firm 
clasp held her hands ; his well-like eyes, in which she 
looked, reading in their unfathomable depths the love 
that she hungered for, and yet was ready to deny her- 
self. Again she stood with him upon the mossy hills 
that in her dreams had seemed to touch the very stars ; 
and once more she felt the dewy freshness of his lips 
upon her forehead ; then he had gone, and though her 
heart called after him now, ‘ Come back to me ! ’ as in 
her dream, she knew that between them lay the glacier 
which was to be her lonely road through life. How 
many times had she lived over in memory that dream, 
thankful that her naked feet still remained unstained ! 

‘ My dream has come to pass,’ she said in her com- 
munings with herself. 4 My dream has come to pass. 
Carroll Tracey has led me from the flat, dead level of 
my life, which seemed so aimless and so unsatisfactory, 
so hollow and so vain ; he has led me up on the beau- 
tiful heights where I dreamed that I was left. Even 
though my road be over the ice, and I walk it alone, still 
it is beautiful to have been so near the angels once in my 
life.’ Then came to her the often-recurring thought, 
‘Are my feet unstained?’ In reply, she questioned 
‘ Can God permit such happiness as has come to me 
to be coupled with wrong and guilt? If it is wrong, 
why did it come to me ? I did not seek it. I did not 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


211 


even dream that it was love. Even with the inexpressible 
bliss of knowing that he loves me, flooding and filling 
my heart, there is still room for the exquisite torture 
that comes to me in the recollection that I did love him 
before he was free in his own eyes to love me. Oh God ! 
that I should fall so low in my own esteem! I, who 
never had one sentiment of pity, one word of compas- 
sionate excuse for those who were tempted — who, even 
now, could find it in my heart to despise the woman who 
is tempted in a grosser sense ! Can it be, as I have 
somewhere read, that when a creature loves much, the 
world and all its people, and all its laws, and ways, and 
opinions cease to exist, and are as though they had 
never been ? If this be so, if our instincts fail us, then 
we are tempted of God, and not of Satan.’ 

With such ever-recurring thoughts, there was little 
cause for wonder that Agatha’s cheeks daily lost their 
roundness, and that the sharpening of her features and 
the hollowness of her eyes became more and more 
noticeable, bringing fresh anxieties to her father and her 
aunt. 

The latter had frequently tried to lead Agatha to 
talk of herself, but always to no purpose ; although in 
her heart, Agatha longed with an unspeakable longing 
to unburthen herself to some one, who could understand 
the contending emotions which she felt were destroying 
her. This, she thought her Aunt Hester, whose life had 
been so void of experiences, could never do ; and more 
and more she shrank from having her carefully guarded 
secret even suspected. 

One day in August, as they were sitting on the shaded 
verandah, Aunt Hester occupied with her needle-work, 


212 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


and Agatha reading aloud, she came to the very passage 
that Carroll Tracey had copied — 

Lift we our eyes to heaven ! Love greets us thence, 

Disrobed of all its earthly impotence ; 

Even human love : below still doomed to be 
Stronger than death, feebler than infancy. 

Agatha’s voice betrayed her emotion as she came so 
suddenly and unexpectedly upon the lines. 

* That sentiment is as true as it is beautiful,’ said her 
aunt. ‘ Stronger than death, yet feebler than infancy,’ 
she repeated. 

Agatha looked dreamily in the distance, suffering 
her hand to fall with the book in her lap, and leaning 
her head back against her chair. 

4 What are you thinking about, Agatha ? ’ asked her 
aunt at last. 

‘ I was thinking of last summer, or last autumn 
rather, when Colonel Potten and I had a talk on this very 
spot, and Frank and Mrs. Arthur Grey were carrying on 
a flirtation in the corner.’ 

‘ Ah,’ thought Aunt Hester, ‘ at last I have a clue. 
Which can it be ? Colonel Potten or Frank ? ’ Before she 
had time to decide in favour of either, Agatha turned 
abruptly with the question, 

4 Aunt Hester, do you believe that it ever happened 
to a really good man to fall in love with a woman who 
was already married, or to a really good woman to find 
herself in love with a man who had a wife living ? ’ 

Aunt Hester looked up from her work, and gave 
Agatha a scrutinising gaze. As she met Agatha’s brown 
eyes fixed searchingly upon her, her own eyes fell, and 
her always pale face flushed with colour. 

‘ Why do you ask such a strange question, child ? ’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


213 


‘ Partly because I was so rude to Mrs. Grey, then ; 
and because I have never had any charity for such people. 
Even if a woman has the misfortune to be married to a 
man whom she does not love, I think her convictions 
of the duty she owes him as a wife, should be strong 
enough to keep her from any manifestations of affection 
for another.’ 

‘ I agree with you,’ replied Aunt Hester, ‘and there is 
not a doubt in my mind but that it would with a woman 
of principle, under all ordinary circumstances ; but I 
have known of cases where good men and good women 
— really and truly good in their principles and their in- 
tendons — have been thrown off their guard by ,some 
unusual combination of events, or by some unexpected 
occurrence, which has betrayed them into revealing emo- 
tions, that they have regretted during all their after 
lives ; and the memory of which, neither tears could 
drown nor time bury from their sight.’ 

‘ Why does God permit such things to happen ? or 
rather, why does our Saviour so explicitly forbid divorce 
for any other cause but one ? I think there is much 
more sin for two people to live together where there is 
no love.’ 

‘At first thought you would seem to be right, and 
so you are in a superficial sense ; but think of all that a 
separation involves between married people who have 
children, and you will see the wisdom of making it no 
light nor easy thing to be divorced. When once the 
mistake of marrying an uncongenial temperament has 
been made, I think the burden should be borne uncom- 
plainingly to the bitter end,’ said Aunt Hester ; breathing 
a long, long sigh, as she bent her head over her sewing 
again. 


214 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


‘ You speak as feelingly as if you had known some 
such case, dear Aunt Hester.’ 

‘ I have known of just such a case.’ 

* I wish you would tell me about it. I was so very 
uncharitable, so bitter in my denunciations of Mrs. Grey’s 
conduct, that sometimes of late I have felt reproachful 
pangs, that, young and beautiful and giddy as she was, 
I did not try to influence her for good, instead of con- 
demning her so unmercifully ; but Aunt Hester, it has 
always been my horror to see a married woman flirt, 
and the possibility of a good woman being interested in 
any man, excepting through friendship, if either had 
married ties, I could not even have dreamed of. Will 
you not tell me ? ’ 

Aunt Hester’s work had fallen in her lap, and she was 
looking as dreamily in the distance as ever Agatha had 
done. At last she spoke. 

* Yes, dear, I will tell you all about it.’ 

The windows of the sitting-room opened on the 
piazza, and entering the invitingly cool and cosy apart- 
ment, Aunt Hester laid aside her work, while Agatha drew 
a low seat by the side of her aunt’s easy chair ; who, 
before she commenced her story, leaned over her, and 
kissing tenderly the up-turned face, said, 

4 It is not without pain that I shall recall these inci- 
dents, but if they are the means of benefiting you, I will 
not shrink from the suffering.’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


215 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A.UNT HESTER’S STORY. 

‘I ONCE had a friend with whom I was on the most in- 
timate terms. I am sure my friend never had a secret 
from me, and this is how I came to know the circum- 
stances that I am going to tell you. I am not violating 
any confidence in repeating it, for were she here now, 
she would say, “ If my experience can be of any benefit 
to another, do not withhold it.” In one way, at least, I 
can see how it may be of use to you ; for when doubts of 
God’s providence or of the wisdom of our Saviour’s 
teachings creep into the mind, no one can foresee the 
result. My friend — let me see, what name shall I give 
her ? for, of course, I can never tell you her true name. 
I will call her Henrietta. She once went to make a visit 
at the house of a married friend. This friend had mar- 
ried when quite young a man of much ability and worth, 
whom her father wished to have her marry. Henrietta 
found her friend very happy in her children, and devoted 
to their happiness. They were evidently of primary im- 
portance in the mother’s eyes, as children are sure to be 
when the match has not been purely a love-match. Just 
as Henrietta’s visit was drawing to a close, one of the 
children was taken down with scarlet fever, and she re- 
mained to assist in the care of the child ; then, the hus- 
band was attacked, and one by one the remaining chib 


216 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


dren. Henrietta gladly stayed through all, for she felt no 
fear of contagion. The husband’s case proved to be 
the most critical, but the anxieties of the mother were so 
centred upon her darlings that she did not realise this. 
Night after night Henrietta kept her place by the bed- 
side of one or the other child, urging the wife to give 
more of her time to her husband. During these long 
and trying weeks, she became literally as one of the 
family. The husband learned to call upon her as he 
would have called upon a sister, and she came and went 
into his chamber as if he were her brother. “ There is 
Horace calling me,” the wife used to say, “ he thinks I 
can be everywhere in the same moment. Do go and 
keep him quiet, for he is so cross since he began to con- 
valesce that I am sure he will end by driving us all out 
of the house, if something is not done to amuse him.” 
So Henrietta went as she was told, and very often took 
with her either flowers to brighten the room, or fruit to 
tempt the invalid’s appetite. The eyes, that always 
brightened at her approach, repaid her a thousand fold 
for any patience that she had to exercise. Day after 
day she read by the hour to the convalescent, as he grew 
better, Browning, Tennyson, or Shelley ; and as he 
gradually recovered his strength, conversation took the 
place of books, and more and more she wondered at the 
rich stores of information that he possessed, at the varied 
culture of his mind, and the seemingly exhaustiess fund 
of his learning. No murmurs nor complaints escaped 
his lips at his wife’s evident neglect ; more than once 
Henrietta was on the brink of remonstrating with her 
concerning it ; but she wisely resisted her impulse seeing 
that any radical change would be impossible, as her chil- 
dren had so long occupied the first place in her afifec- 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


217 


tions. At last, all the convalescents were able to leave 
their respective chambers, and once more Henrietta 
made preparations for departure. No, I must go back 
and tell you of something that happened before the hus- 
band was able to leave his room ; he was sitting in his 
easy chair by the open window — for it was a sultry 
night in August— when he called his wife to come 
into his chamber. She was occupied with one of the 
children, and Henrietta was sitting by the bed of another, 
telling some wonderful fairy story to the little boy, who 
was her especial pet, and whose nightly custom upon retir- 
ing was to demand one of her. The wife said to her, “ I 
wish you would go and see what he wants,” so she made 
a speedy ending of her story and went. There was no 
light in the room, but that of the moon, which was 
struggling through the clouds, and everything was dim 
and shadowy. As she approached him, he said, “ You 
look in your trailing white dress like an angel that has 
floated down to earth on some errand of mercy.” He 
drew her to the window, saying, “ I want you to look 
up to the heavens that you surely came from, and tell 
me whether you ever saw anything more beautiful, in 
heaven or earth, than the scene before you.” Between 
them and the horizon lay the ocean, calm as a lake ; yet, 
with throbbing bosom, as if some gigantic heart were re- 
posing beneath. Clouds of intense blackness were 
grouped in fantastic forms against the back-ground of 
pale sky, their ragged edges bordered with opalescent 
light ; for the moon had risen behind them, and every 
now and then revealed herself through the openings. 
Henrietta seated herself on the chair, which he motioned 
her to take, and, leaning one arm upon the window 
frame, looked out on the weird spectacle, with her heart 


218 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


too full for words. Sheet lightnings were flashing in the 
sky, and every now and then the mutterings of far dis- 
tant thunder echoed through the profound stillness. The 
night was solemnly, grandly still. After a long pause, 
the husband said, “ Tell me of what you are thinking, 
will you not ?” She answered, “ I was wondering what 
heaven could be like, when earth is so much more than 
beautiful.” There was another pause, and then he laid 
his hand lightly upon the arm that rested upon the win- 
dow, and said, “ I shall have a great deal to tell you 
when we reach that other world.” That was all. A day 
or two after that, Henrietta was gathering her books to- 
gether, and her drawing materials, and the husband 
asked her if she would not give him one of her sketches. 
She gave him her portfolio to choose from. He selected 
a fancy sketch. A young girl leaning against a window, 
looking thoughtfully upwards, with more of heaven than 
earth in her face, so full of all holy aspirations was it. 
He said, “ I have selected this, because it reminds me 
of the magic night in which you seemed to me to 
have floated down from heaven to earth, to minister to 
me. I wonder after you have gone, whether you will 
ever think of me as I will think of you.” “ There will 
not be a day,” she answered, “ in which I will not think 
of you and your wife, and wish myself back with you.” 
“ That is not what I want,” he said impatiently ; “ I 
wish to feel sure before we part that you will think of me 
as I shall think of you — I mean, as of one who if fate 
or destiny had brought to you earlier in life, that there 
might have been that true union in which soul is fused 
with soul, mind blended with mind, so that two would 
literally have been made one ; but good God ! what have 
I said,” for he saw that Henrietta shrank away from him, 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


219 


shocked and terrified. She gathered up her books and 
drawings, and left the room, without making any answer. 
The next evening she was sitting quite alone, when he 
came up to her. She had been utterly confounded by 
the sudden revelation of his feelings towards her the pre- 
vious day, and now she feared his presence. He said, 
“ Can you ever forgive me for what I said to you yes- 
terday ? Believe me, but for my illness I never would 
have betrayed my weakness. Now, you must not refuse 
to listen to my exculpation ; you have seen how good my 
wife is — what an excellent mother and housekeeper ; 
and you have seen that as far as any sympathy — com- 
panionship — what shall I call that nameless affinity that 
blends two souls in one ? — well, you have seen that as far 
as that goes, I might as well have married that Majtha 
in Scripture, who was so careful about many things that 
she could not attend to the interests of her own soul. I 
do assure you that my very soul is imperilled for want of 
that degree of affection which my wife never has felt, and 
never will feel for me. This and my weakness, after my 
long illness, is all the excuse I have to offer ; but I im- 
plore you to forget what I said yesterday — to restore me 
to the same footing that I was on with you before — not 
to look at me so coldly, and I will never give you any 
reason to regret it. Tell me that you will ? ” She 
replied, “ I will upon one condition.” “ Name it,” he said. 
“ Upon the condition that you promise never again to 
address one word to me that you would not be willing to 
have your wife stand by and hear.” He replied, “ I pro- 
mise willingly. You are quite right — this is as it should 
be.” When Henrietta went to her room that night, she 
asked herself why he had not fallen in her esteem — why 
it was that she felt him to be dearer to her than ever ? 


220 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


While she regretted the loss of the friendship that she 
felt might have always existed between them if he had 
not disclosed his love for her, she was compelled to 
acknowledge to herself that that love was very precious to 
her. She recalled how once when they had been chatting 
and laughing about the requirements of friendship, she 
had said that she should not be exacting ; he had re- 
plied, “ And I should be very exacting, if you were that 
friend. I should want a great deal more than you could 
ever give me — more, I mean, than you would be willing 
to give me ; but still, I am grateful for ever so little.” 
She had not thought much of this at the time, but now 
it all came back to her, with many, many other things that 
were full of deep meaning — that had a new significance. 
Why did she not hate the man for daring to say such 
words to her! — for presuming but to lay his hand upon 
her arm, the evening when she had sat beside him in the 
window ? She asked herself if another man lived whose 
course she would not have resented had he attempted 
such liberties in words and acts. Then, why had this 
man but become dearer to her? — so dear, that it seemed to 
her now, that when the morrow came and she should 
leave him, it would be like going out of Paradise into a 
desert ? “ Am I then one of those wretched beings who 

enter a family but to bring estrangement between hus- 
band and wife? — one of those false friends who smile de- 
ceitfully, and profess affection for the wife, while robbing 
her of her husband’s love ? ” She thanked God that she 
was not such a one — that as far as she was concerned, 
she could that moment go to her friend, and say to her, 
that she wished her to know all that was in her heart — 
that she could tell her just how dear her husband was to 
her, and say that even if she had the power, she would 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


221 


not rob of her one thought. She longed to say to her, 
u Let me but have the crumbs that fall from your table 
unregarded ; they are all that I desire, they would satisfy 
me — but I will not take them without your knowledge 
and consent.” She reasoned in this way, and she really 
believed that her reasoning was just to both herself and 
her friend ; that such relations might be sustained, if her 
friend did but sanction them. But the plant that had 
sprung up so suddenly in her heart, and which, if no light 
but the cold lunar light of friendship had fallen upon, would 
have been of slow growth, had in the fostering rays 
of the sun of love grown like the gourd of Scripture. 
It had already enwound itself with every fibre of her 
being ; so that on the morrow when the hour of parting 
approached, she was like one who stands upon the shore 
in sight of the ship which goes down before her eyes, 
bearing from her sight her most precious treasure. Her 
heart felt like lead within her, her nerves were strung to 
their highest pitch of endurance, her head seemed bound 
round with iron bands that compressed her brain, and 
tortured her. The end of all time seemed to have come. 
The little children whom she had loved so dearly' were 
nothing to her now — they clung around her, loth to have 
her go ; but all her affection for them seemed for the 
moment to have been swallowed up in the one absorb- 
ing, intense infatuation that had seized hold of her with 
demoniacal power drifting her along the current of her 
destiny. It was but twenty-four hours since she had 
thanked God, that whatever his feelings were for her, 
she had not one thought even in her heart for him, that 
she need to blush for. How terrible was the fall from that 
pinnacle on which she had placed herself above him ! 
When the moment of parting arrived, her friend dis- 


222 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


covered that she could not leave her household duties to 
accompany her to the train, and begged her to excuse 
her and suffer her husband to go with her, who would 
be better for the little drive, she said. So they found 
themselves in the carriage together, and Henrietta was 
so successful in her efforts to subdue and keep down all 
emotion, that she seemed more like a statue than a 
living human being. “ I see you will never forgive me,” 
he said, mistaking the cause of her silence and her 
frigid demeanour. His voice was so full of pathos, that 
she felt the tears filling her eyes, and as they rolled 
down over her cheeks she found the stony hardness 
of her heart melting away, the painful rigidity of her 
muscles relaxing. He continued, “ What would I not 
give could I only succeed in once again establishing our 
former relations? — could I make you forget my wretched 
imbecility ! Remember, and let this memory plead for 
me, how ill I had been, and how in my illness you were 
the only one who seemed to care whether I lived or 
died, until at last you were always in my thoughts, both 
sleeping and waking. But no, it is not possible for you 
to understand such love as I have given to you — asking 
nothing but permission to love you. How can I 
endure what my life will be to me after once having 
known you, when you have gone out of it, if I have 
to feel that I have lost your respect, your friendship ? 
I shall be tempted like the man of old to curse God and 
die ! ” Every word struck her heart as if a knife were 
plunged into it. Then a species of exaltation came 
over her, such as a martyr might feel, who in the glory of 
being called to suffer for the faith finds transport in the 
suffering. “Shall I part with him, hypocrite that I 
would be, and not tell him first that I share his pain ? — 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


223 


shall I leave him to think that I have less to bear than 
he has ? — that I am indulging a righteous pride ? — the 
pride of the Pharisee, who thanks God that he is better 
than other men ? The sin lies not in the love that we 
feel for each other, but in the indulgence of that love in 
a way which would wrong those who have claims upon 
us. He shall see my heart once, and then we will each 
help the other to that strength that we will both need 
for the fulfilment of our duties, and which God, who 
brought us together, will not refuse to give us.” She 
but turned and looked into his eyes. Not a word was 
spoken ; not a word was necessary. She had drawn her 
glove upon one hand ; he took the ungloved one, 
reverently, as if it had been the hand of an angel, and 
just touched it with his lips. Then she spoke. “ I was 
going to say something to you,” she said, “ but after all 
it is better unsaid. I will wait until we meet in that 
world, where, as you told me the other day, I shall 
have a great deal to tell you.” “You are right,” he 
answered, “ it is better to wait, for I would not have you 
say anything to me here that you could ever wish 
unsaid.” They had reached the station, but the train 
had not yet arrived, nor was there anyone in the wait- 
ing-room. They sat down side by side, and he reached 
his hand to clasp hers, but she withdrew it. He saw the 
colour come into her face, as she felt the magnetism 
of his touch but for that one instant, and the weakness 
of human nature triumphed as he felt his power over 
her. He whispered, “ Tell me what you were going 
to say. It will be so much for me to remember after 
we have parted ; and think how long— how very long 
the years will be before we meet in another world.” 
‘'Not so long,” she replied, "as those would be spent 


224 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


in eternity, vainly regretting not having resisted the 
temptation to say what I wished to say here. But if we 
both make a right use of this discipline, which I know 
God has sent to us — not only to show us our own weak- 
ness as well as to strengthen our powers of resistance of 
evil, but to develop that in our natures which is His 
sweetest, best, and highest gift — we shall not fail to meet 
in a world where there will be no sin in expressing what 
we feel for each other.” “ Will you be mine there ? ” he 
asked. “ I will,” she answered, “ if we are found worthy 
of eternity.” The sharp whistle of the locomotive was 
heard, and directly the train came thundering on. As 
they stood in the dark little waiting-room alone, a mad 
impulse came over him, as he afterwards told her, to 
hold her just once to his heart — just once to kiss her on 
her lips — but resisting it, as her words came back to 
him : “ If we are found worthy,” he said, “ we must have 
it to remember that I have never kissed you, not even 
on your cheek.” They held each other’s hand in a 
lingering pressure, and then they parted ; while, as she 
learned afterwards, he stood locking after the train that 
bore her from him until the last vestige of the loco- 
motive’s curling smoke disappeared in the level distance. 
After this came Henrietta’s remorse, not perhaps that 
very day, nor the next, but when the strange exaltation 
that had given her spirit wings, as it were, lifting her 
above everything earthly, had disappeared and left her 
to face the matter-of-fact occurrences in the broad light 
of common sense, she suffered such pangs as only those 
can feel who have tried to do their duty conscientiously 
to God and their fellow men, and who have suddenly 
fallen short where they have felt themselves to be most 
secure. She could not forget the wild longing she had 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


225 


felt, at the moment of parting, that he would only once 
take her in his arms, only once kiss her, as those who 
love kiss when they part ; and the degradation of soul 
which she experienced over this memory seemed to her 
like a serpent eating its way into her heart. Never 
could she be thankful enough that in that moment he 
had been capable of the god-like strength he had mani- 
fested ; as never could she forget that she owed to him 
the memory that he never had held her in an embrace; 
for it was not until they met once more, that she was 
made happy by hearing from his lips that it was her 
words which had made him so strong.’ 

Aunt Hester shaded her eyes with one hand as she 
ceased speaking, supporting her head, for her elbow 
rested on the table by which she was sitting. 

‘ Oh, Aunt Hester, do tell me more,’ said Agatha. 
‘Tell me when and how they met again ; do dear Aunt 
Hester.’ Then she saw two large tears plash upon her 
aunt’s hand, which lay in her lap, and she said, ‘ No, if 
it distresses you to recall these memories, I will not be so 
-selfish as to ask it ; but Aunt Hester, I can never thank 
you as I would, I can never find words to tell you what 
this history has done for me. I believe that you have 
saved my life,’ and Agatha laid her head in her aunt’s lap, 
lifting her hand and pressing it caressingly to her face. 

There was a silence of some minutes, then Aunt 
Hester resumed her story. 

‘Years passed before they met again, and wherever 
Henrietta went she carried with her her secret, as one 
might carry a coffin which could not be placed out of 
sight, because of some prescribed penance. When they 
did meet, both had been so purified by the fiery trial 
they had been called upon by God to undergo, that they 

Q 


226 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


were able to meet as two should meet who were so 
situated. Every year upon the anniversary of the day 
when her eyes had spoken to him of the hunger and 
thirst that was in her soul for that love’ which life had 
denied her, she received a letter from him ; but the 
letter only contained some verse of Scripture, or a quo- 
tation from some author, which embodied the senti- 
ments of his heart towards her. 

‘ One letter contained only these lines, 

Our pangs are infinite as is our love, 

And infinite as both will be the glory 
Of overmastering both. 

‘ Another time, 

How nobly shows our virtue 
When the heart breaks in its exercise ! 

4 And again, 

‘ “ There hath no temptation taken you but such as 
is common to man ; but God is faithful, who will not 
suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able ; but 
will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that 
ye may be able to bear it .” 9 

4 I am sure that through it all/ continued Aunt 
Hester, ‘no one suspected the existence of the cross they 
bore, as I am also sure they never wished to change 
their cross for any other ; for with all the suffering, there 
was that sweetest of compensations that comes from a 
knowledge that one is so dearly loved, even if so widely 
separated. No poet has ever sung truer words than that 
it is sweeter to have loved and lost than never to have 
loved at all/ 

‘ Do tell me, Aunt Hester, where he is now- what has 
become of him/ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


227 


1 He is in eternity, waiting for one who hopes to 
realise there, all that has been to her here only a dream, 
when God sees fit to restore them to each other.’ 

Agatha pressed her aunt’s soft and still beautiful hand 
to her lips, kissing it over and over. 

‘ I do not know how to thank you for telling me this 
story ; if you only could know why I thank you so 
much,’ she said. 

Aunt Hester felt that Agatha’s heart would soon 
open to her, but taking no notice of what she said, 
she continued, ‘ I commenced by saying that when 
once the mistake had been made of marrying one 
of an uncongenial temperament, I thought the bur- 
den ought to be borne uncomplainingly to the end of 
life. Of course I do not mean that there are no excep- 
tions ; but I speak in general terms. In this instance, 
Henrietta’s friend had made the mistake of marrying to 
please a father whose every wish was her law ; she had 
not known what love was beyond filial love ; and she 
loved her husband as she would have loved a brother ; 
satisfied, because she knew no higher nor deeper love. 
Her husband’s love for her was first chilled, and finally 
destroyed, by her indifference to him. He was the only 
apparent sufferer ; but she suffered, in that her nature 
had no opportunity for that development which married 
life brings, when the love that unites the husband to the 
wife and the wife to the husband, is that alone which 
constitutes marriage. Still, her happiness was so centred 
in her children, that she felt no loss. Had she ever met 
a man who possessed for her that power of attraction 
which her husband failed to possess for her, then she would 
have been conscious of the capabilities of her nature for 
a more exalted passion than any that had ever been re- 


228 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


vealed to her. As it was, she remained in ignorance of 
all that life is capable of conferring ; and was happy in 
that ignorance. Now, we will suppose that her husband 
had insisted upon a separation, or even expressed to her 
his desire to have one ; how unhappy it would have made 
her, and consequently her children ! What a scandal 
would have been associated with the two selfish beings 
who could plan and carry out steps to secure their 
happiness at such a fearful cost! No, rest assured I am 
right; in most cases the mistake should never be ac- 
knowledged, even to each other ; certainly not publicly. 
But Mrs. Arthur Grey’s case is not a parallel one, I 
know ; she has no children ; her husband is intemperate, 
and lately I have heard that he is drinking himself into 
the grave. It is said she has been sent for by his 
mother to come abroad on account of his situation, his 
physicians saying that he cannot last through the summer. 
I hope ’ 

‘ Aunt Hester,’ said Agatha, interrupting her, and 
looking straight into her eyes, * Aunt Hester, you know 
I am not thinking of Mrs. Arthur Grey. You know that 
it is because of an experience of my own that I feel so 
grateful to you. Let us have no concealments between 
us, other than the one of identity ; you have told me 
your history, and I will tell you mine.’ 

i My history, child ! ’ was all that Aunt Hester said, 
the blood fading from her very lips while she pressed 
both hands tightly over her heart, as if Agatha had 
struck her there a mortal blow, in thus revealing that 
she knew what Aunt Hester had always concealed from 
every eye save that of the All-Seeing One. 

‘ Do you regret it ? ’ said Agatha. ‘ It is as safe with 
me as mine will be with you. I do not ask to know 


ON DANGERO S GROUND . 


229 


more than you have told me. You have shown me that 
such love comes unbidden, unsought ; that if properly 
controlled, it not only interferes with no rights of others, 
but may be made the means of one’s own spiritual ad- 
vancement; that the sin is not in feeling that attrac- 
tion, but in yielding to it. Tell me that you do not 
regret it ; for Aunt Hester, I never loved you before as 
I love you now ; you have given me back what I 
thought I had lost for ever — my self-respect. I know 
now that I am worthier, than if I had had no tempta- 
tions to resist.’ 

Aunt Hester kissed Agatha very tenderly, and 
answered, 

‘ I cannot and do not regret anything that has been 
instrumental in producing such an end. I am more than 
repaid for the torture that it still is to me to recall 
these events. I call it torture ; but it is an exquisite 
torture.’ 

‘And now,’ said Agatha, ‘ I can tell you everything. 
How I have longed to unburthen my heart to some one ! 
I have even wished I were a Roman Catholic, that I 
might go to a priest and learn from him whether this ever- 
growing, wild, idolatrous love, that I feel for one who has 
married another, is as sinful in the sight of God as it is in 
my own ; but now I feel that I no longer need to blush 
as I have over the faintest memory of it.’ 

Agatha spoke with perfect calmness, but with great 
earnestness ; and her face had in it that transfiguration 
which strong feeling brings to the plainest features, 
endowing them with the beauty of the soul. She con- 
tinued, 

4 1 am willing never to see him again in this world — 
never to hear the sound of his voice — more than willing. 


230 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


I am eager to do all that duty requires of me, except 
to give up the conviction that I am as dear to him as he 
is to me. I would rather die a martyr’s death, than 
lose my faith in this conviction. While it lasts, and I 
feel it will last, I can endure the separation. All that I 
want is to feel sure that we will belong to each other in 
eternity.’ 

Her face was luminous with the heavenly light that 
glowed in her eyes. As a sunbeam streamed through 
the vines and rested upon her head, it seemed to radiate 
from it like the rays of light that encircle the faces of 
saints and angels in the pre-Raphaelite pictures. 

‘You will have to live the life of a martyr, Agatha, 
which is even harder than to die one,’ said her aunt. 
‘ With such love as is in your heart for one who be- 
longs to another, death would be a mercy, even though 
he came to you with sword and flames ; but death is an 
angel that takes his own time to release us ; or rather, 
the time of his Master. He comes not at our call, and he 
appears where he is least welcome. There are many 
living martyrs in our day ; few who are called upon to 
die as such. Tell me, dear, how such an experience ever 
came to you.’ 

So Agatha told her aunt all that she could tell, with- 
out revealing Carroll Tracey’s identity ; and then said, 

‘Now let us promise never to allude again to what 
has passed between us this morning. We cannot tell 
each other more than we have — we must not if we could. 
Am I not right ? ’ 

‘ Answer me one question,’ said Aunt Hester. ‘ Is it 
because of this experience that you refused to go to 
Europe this summer ? ’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


231 


4 It is. He is in Europe. When he returns we 
will go.’ 

‘You were right, my child, not to go. I understand 
all now, although I have no idea who he is/ 

The summer passed away ; Agatha and her aunt were 
more to each other than they had ever been before. 

Always Aunt Hester’s face wore its sweet expression 
a blending of chastened happiness and a wistful an- 
ticipation of all that was waiting for her in the beyond ; 
while Agatha’s troubled conscience set at rest, the ghost 
of remorse exorcised, her face regained its serene expres- 
sion, while her thoughtful eyes held in them ‘ the secret 
of a happy dream she did not care to tell/ 


232 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Meantime Narraganset had been as gay as Newport 
had been pronounced dull that summer. 

Mrs. Arthur Grey, who was staying with the Dexters 

at House, seemed to have grown desperate, 

since the reported engagement of Frank Mortimer to 
Mildred was no longer denied ; for she ‘ flirted right and 
left,’ totally regardless of appearances or of gossip, 
until her departure for Europe, where she was sum- 
moned on account of her husband’s illness. Mrs. Dexter 
exercised her usual judicious control over her husband, 
who, however, managed his affair^ on the sly so success- 
fully, that no one suspected his (supposed) temporary 
weakness for Mrs. Barlow had progressed into an 
affair of more consequence. Mrs. Grundy’s time was 
fully occupied in canvassing the merits of the various 
flirtations between the unmarried couples, as to how 
far they transcended the bounds of propriety ; and 
as to which of them might end in marriage, and which 
never would ; but little cared the participants whether 
Mrs. Grundy approved or condemned. There were 
abundant bits of gossip floating around ; no end of ill- 
natured comments and jests about the married and the 
unmarried, the middle-aged and the young ; but ‘ the 
little blonde,’ Mrs. Barber, carried off the palm in the 
way of being made the subject of scandal. Day after 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


233 


day, the dowagers (irreverently called 1 the gossips ’) 
assembled to compare notes, as one rumour after 
another was Started on its round. Morning after morn- 
ing she walked on the sands, or sat on the rocks that 
bordered the sea, with her new admirer, Mr. Shelby 
Smith, whom she had introduced as her cousin, but who 
had been pronounced by those conversant with her 
family history to be only a cousin of the remotest 
degree, such as the Scotch claim — of the twentieth 
remove, at least. They rode, or drove, or sailed together 
so constantly, that Mr. Barber was quoted as the most 
indulgent of husbands, by wives wishing to emulate her, 
and denounced as an idiot by those who had no oppor- 
tunity to test the soundness of mind of their lords and 
masters. 

If a committee had been appointed to watch their 
movements, no stricter surveillance could have been 
kept over them than was that instituted by the Misses 
Fortescue ; two maiden sisters, whose interest in the 
affairs of others could in no way be accounted for, save 
by the supposition that they had no resources of any 
description within themselves. 

One morning, when a group of ladies were seated in 
one corner of the drawing-room, Miss Fortescue entered 
breathless, 

4 What do you think ? Emma Barber is sitting 
down on the rocks with her cousin , and he has his arm 
around her, you can all see for yourselves if you like. 
I never saw such shameless goings on in my life,’ and 
Miss Fortescue fairly hissed the word * cousin ’ from 
between her teeth. 

There was a regular stampede for the window. 
There they sat, in full sight, side by side. 


234 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


* Really, I think you are mistaken/ said Mrs, Dexter, 
‘ He has his arm above her, not around her/ 

‘Yes, it is/ persisted Miss Fortescue, ‘I saw him 
squeezing her up to him, as I came along. There’s 
nothing going on that escapes me. But you will see 
more than this if you will come with me to-night over 

to the House. We are going, Jane and I, to 

see for ourselves all the billing and cooing that goes on 
every night in the dark corner of the back piazza. Mrs. 
Hill’s maid told my Stephanie that she had never seen 
anything to equal it/ 

i Hush ! you don’t say so : of course I will go. We 
will make up a party and take them by surprise/ 
answered one of the ladies. ‘ Come, Mrs. Dexter/ you 
must be one of us, and Mrs. Owen too, for it will be 
such fun to catch them. You know we can go ostensibly 
to hear the music.’ 

‘ I have no objections to going over to hear the 
music,’ replied Mrs. Dexter, who, being a politic woman, 
had no idea of committing herself out and out to the 
proposed arrangement. 

When evening came, there was a slight mist that 
threatened to turn into a drenching fog. This cooled 
the ardour of the ladies, and only two sallied out, the 
sisters Fortescue. Waiting until Mrs. Barber had disap- 
peared, they proceeded, as they supposed, to follow her. 
In a short time they returned, reporting that their 
courage had given out when they came in sight of the 
two, whom they found sitting in ‘the dark corner,’ 
described by the French maid, Stephanie, for Mr. 
Shelby Smith’s giant form had so loomed up through 
the fog that they had turned back, not being quite pre- 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


235 


pared to confront him, as they must have done had they 
continued. 

‘ But we saw his arm around Mrs. Barber, didn’t we 
Jane? said Miss Fortescue. 

4 Certainly we did, and we saw him kiss her, or 
thought we did, didn’t we Anna ? ’ 

Miss Fortescue not quite prepared to endorse this 
statement, after a preparatory clearing of the throat, 
answered, * I wasn’t quite sure that he kissed her, but 
Jane thought he did.’ 

4 Shameful ! abominable ! outrageous ! ’ were some 
of the exclamations that escaped the listeners. 

4 You must not repeat this, for you will get me in an 
awful scrape if you do. I was told the other day that 
Mr. Smith said he would call 44 the gossips ” to account, if 
any of their stories reached his ears.’ 

4 Gossips ! I like that. He called us gossips did 
he ? Oh, the wicked wretch 1 It would take some 
one besides Shelby Smith to frighten me, if I am 
a gossip,’ said Miss Fortescue. 

At this moment, Mrs. Barber entered and joined the 
group. 

4 It is so disagreeable on the piazza ? the fog is 
growing thicker and thicker,’ she said. 

Miss Fortescue bridled, the word ‘gossips’ still 
nettled her. 

4 Disagreeable on the piazza ? ’ said she. 4 Why, when 
Jane and I saw you a few moments ago, we thought you 
seemed to be having a most agreeable time.’ 

4 And so I was, until this mist came up,’ answered 
Mrs. Barber innocently. 4 Look at my new grenadine ; 
it is ruined.’ 


236 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


Miss Jane Fortescue smiled grimly, and Miss For- 
tescue said, ‘ It does look very much tumbled,’ glancing 
around to see if the ladies appreciated her mild joke. 

When Mrs. Barber and her draggled grenadine had 
disappeared — for, incensed by the looks and tones of the 
two spinsters, she left the room — then Jane Fortescue 
said, ‘ How could you say what you did, Anna? I de- 
clare, I never will trust you again.’ 

‘Trust me ? Well, that is comical. Why there is 
not a servant in the house who is not talking about them. 
When you place any trust in me, I am not the one to 
betray it, but ’ 

‘ I am only afraid that you will get us both into some 
trouble ; for now, of course she will tell Shelby Smith 
that it was you and I who followed them over to the 
House.’ 

‘ I never thought of that. They did see us evidently, 
for you know they moved their chairs as we approached, 
and I thought Mr. Smith was going to get up and come 
towards us.’ 

The bulletin of news that grew out of the Misses 
Fortescue’s reconnaissance spread like wild-fire. The 
next morning every one in the house was talking of the 
scandal. It could not be denied that the intimacy 
between Mrs. Barber and Shelby Smith had exceeded 
the bounds of propriety ; for had not the Misses For- 
tescue seen the imprudent woman sitting in his lap, with 
both arms around his neck, and kissing him over and 
over ? So do stories grow in a single night in the hot- 
house air of a watering-place. 

In vain some of the ladies, less given to gossip, 
asserted that Miss Fortescue had never been a friend of 
Mrs. Barber, whose superior attractions had inspired 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


237 


envy in her heart when they were both younger ; and 
one, more charitable than wise, quoted Victor Hugo’s 
words ‘ L'envie est une bonne etoffe pour fair e un espion 
but still the story grew, until at last a large majority of 
the ladies in the house turned a cold shoulder to Mrs. 
Barber. When she joined any circle it was the signal 
for the uprising and disappearance of several of the 
ladies. All this occurred before Mr. Campbell Clawson’s 
departure for Europe early in August ; and with his 
usual benevolence, always ready to be exerted in behalf 
of any distinguished member of polite society, he en- 
deavoured to turn the tide in her favour, by giving her 
the benefit of his countenance. 

‘ Your character will suffer next,’ said Miss Fortescue. 
‘ I know I would not be seen with her after all that has 
occurred.’ 

1 If my character gave me as much anxiety as yours 
seems to give you, I would get rid of it as soon as 
possible,’ he answered. ‘ Come, Miss Fortescue, remem- 
ber that charity begins at home, and let him that is with- 
out sin cast the first stone.’ 

Miss Fortescue, who had not reached her mature age 
(mature for one still in the matrimonial field) without 
having had some escapades, wondered whether any of them 
had reached Mr. Clawson’s ears, a saffron flush suffusing 
her face, as one of them recurred to her which she felt 
sure he knew of. 

There was little else talked of for a time other than 
this latest and spiciest bit of gossip yet set afloat by 
the two spinsters, notwithstanding Mr. Clawson .made 
brave efforts to rake up long buried affairs in order to 
divert their minds from his protegee. It must be con- 
fessed that Mrs. Belcher was among those who were 


238 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


naughty enough to find satisfaction in Mrs. Barber’s 
discomfiture. After the lapse of two or three weeks — 
the scouts that were sent out from time to time bringing 
back fresh fuel to fan the flames — she happened to men- 
tion the scandal to her friend, Mrs. Hill, one evening, 
while sitting with her in her parlour at the House. 

‘ Why she seems to be a rival of our gay widow here,’ 
said Mrs. Hill. 

‘Whom do you mean ?’ asked Mrs. Belcher. 

‘ Mrs. Barlow. Is it possible that you have not heard 
how every one in the house is talking about her and Mr. 
Dexter ? ’ 

‘ Lucy Barlow ! Mr. Dexter ! ’ exclaimed Mrs. 
Belcher. ‘ Why I can hardly believe it possible. This 
is the -most gossiping place in the world. It was only 
this morning that Lucy Barlow and I had a long talk 
about Mrs. Barber’s imprudences ; and she said much 
that she would not have said if she had been guilty of 
any similar ones.’ 

Mrs. Hill arose, saying, ‘ Excuse me for one moment,’ 
as she entered her bed-room. Then, almost immediately 
returning, she said, 

If you will follow me into my children’s room through 
mine, I will show you whether Mrs. Barlow is as dis- 
creet as you think ; but be careful, do not speak or 
make any noise, for it would disturb them.’ 

Mrs. Belcher followed Mrs. Hill, feeling confident 
that the latter had mistaken Mrs. Barber for Mrs. Bar- 
low. They groped their way along the darkened room, 
and . reached the window, the shutters of which were 
closed ; a faint light visible through the partially closed 
slats. 

‘There!’ whispered Mrs. Hill. ‘What do you say 
now ? ’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


239 


Mrs. Belcher peeped between the slats, long enough 
to feel convinced that, whoever they were, there was no 
excuse for the familiarities that she witnessed ; but the 
shadows were so heavy, the corner so obscure, that she 
could not convince herself of the identity of the parties. 
Mr. Dexter and Shelby Smith were both large men, 
Mrs. Barlow and Mrs. Barber both rather short and well 
formed, and both dressed in black. 

‘ It must be Mrs. Barber and Shelby Smith/ she said, 
* and you have mistaken them for Lucy Barlow and Mr. 
Dexter. I feel so very mean to be watching any one.’ 

‘ Ask your maid, who has seen them often on moon- 
light nights/ said Mrs. Hill. 

‘ I remember Alphonsine did say Mrs. Barlow was the 
woman, but she often gets names wrong, and I thought 
she meant Mrs. Barber. I reproved her, and told her 
not to come to me with any more gossip. I never allow 
my maids to repeat any stories to me. Not for a 
moment did I dream that Lucy Barlow was such a 
woman ! It is my punishment for having helped to 
circulate the scandal about Mrs. Barber, whom I detest/ 

The whispering, or other sounds, seemed to disturb 
the two, for they arose and walked away, arm-in-arm. 

4 1 came here to see them/ said Mrs. Belcher, ‘ in order 
that I might convince you that you were doing my friend 
injustice ; and now, I am vexed that I did not remain 
in ignorance ; or rather that I have found Mrs. Barber 
to be innocent ; and still more vexed with myself that 
I am so unjust to her as not to be willing to have her 
vindicated.' 

i I do not think it is your duty to vindicate her at the 
expense of your friend/ said Mrs. Hill. 4 She is just as 
bad I have no doubt/ 


240 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


‘ But it is my duty to vindicate her, without exposing 
my friend,’ answered Mrs. Belcher, ‘and that, I am 
compelled to do, for I daresay I first set the ball in 
motion by repeating what Alphonsine had told me. It 
is the first piece of gossip I have ever meddled with, 
and I have only myself to blame for the humiliation it 
has brought me.’ 

So Mrs. Belcher returned in a most crest-fallen con- 
dition. She found a circle of ladies bobbing their 
heads together, their tongues clattering, and their eyes 
beaming. Miss Fortescue was in their midst, narrating, 
not for the first time, how on her way back from one of 
the cottages, she had taken a roundabout way, accom- 
panied by her nephew, and how they had turned the 
corner suddenly upon Mrs. Barber and Shelby Smith, 
and that she was almost lying in his arms with her head 
leaning on his shoulder, but that both sprang to their feet 
and walked away together, so expeditiously that they 
had actually arrived at the hotel before Miss Fortescue 
and her nephew ; who found them sitting on the piazza, 
just as if nothing had happened, and behaving with the 
utmost propriety. 

Mrs. Belcher listened to the close. Then she said, 

‘ I am extremely sorry to spoil such a good story — 
more sorry than you can ever know. I have just returned 

from the House, and I saw all that Miss Fortescue 

describes, but the persons were not Mrs. Barber and Mr. 
Smith ; and more than this, there has been a mistake 
from the first. Mrs. Barber is entirely innocent of giving 
any ground for this especial scandal.’ 

‘ Who is the woman then ? ’ asked one and another. 

‘ That will never pass my lips,’ answered Mrs. Belcher. 

For the next few davs gossip was rife as to who the 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


241 


individuals could be ; but as the corner was never again 
occupied, no farther discoveries were made in that direc- 
tion. 

Mrs. Dexter remained in happy ignorance of her 
husband’s complicity ; venturing the opinion that who- 
ever they were they must belong to that fast set in New 
York, with whom no people that are in the best society 
ever willingly allow themselves to be mixed up in any 
way. 

Mr. Marston, who occasionally spent a Sunday at 
Narraganset, said to Mrs. Belcher after hearing of the 
denouement upon his next visit, 

‘ You have let a fine opportunity slip for revenging 
yourself upon Mrs. Barber. Don’t you remember that 
I told you all things come to those who know how to 
wait? Why did you spoil the fun by setting them 
straight ? ’ 

* Because I never could have had any respect for my- 
self if I had not ; and I value self-respect more than 
revenge. Then again, I really believe that to return 
good for evil is the best kind of revenge. I sometimes 
have thought though, that it is just as wicked a satisfac- 
tion in the sight of God, when you do it for revenge, as 
the doing of an injury.’ 

‘ I do not agree with you ; but I have seen enough 
of the workings of Providence, and how good is brought 
out of evil, to feel more than willing to leave all my 
private grudges to be settled for me. “ God’s mills grind 
slowly, but they grind surely,” you know ; all their wheels 
work together for good to those who love goodness, and 
they work woe to the wicked.’ 

‘ La vengeance eft boiteuse ; elle vient a pas lents , 
mats elle vient 1 quoted Mrs. Belcher. 

R 


242 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


1 Nothing truer; and you have seen that Miss Lee 
was not hurt by the slander. She carried the contradic- 
tion in her face. I think I never saw a purer face than 
hers. If I ever do marry, the woman of my choice will 
be just such a woman as she is/ 

‘ Ah, Mr. Marston, when you marry, you will surely 
marry a widow ; for men always do just what they pro- 
test they will not ; and I have heard you say that you 
never could love a woman who had ever even fancied 
herself in love before.’ 

As if in confirmation of this prediction, Mr. Marston 
soon after became one of Mrs. Barlow’s most devoted 
attendants ; and before the season was over, conjectures 
were rife as to the probable result. 

The news of Frank Mortimer’s marriage with the 
divorced wife of Carroll Tracey afforded a subject for 
farther comment, coupled with rumours that Paul 
Howard and Mrs. Matthews had carried a flirtation to 
such lengths at Nahant, that Mr. Matthews had for- 
bidden his wife to hold any communication with him. 

What with these topics, the various flirtations, the 

mystery of the affair at the House (the participants 

in which remained undiscovered), and the reported impru- 
dences of many others, the summer ended iii a jubilee of 
scandal and spicy tales, which so gladdened the hearts 
of the dowagers (spitefully called ‘ the gossips ’) that they 
were in the best possible humour with themselves, each 
other, and all the world. 


OX DANGEROUS GROUND. 


243 


CHAPTER X. 

Agatha might well thank her Aunt Hester for having 
confided to her the romance of her life ; for by it she 
came to look upon her own experience more leniently. 
The struggle that had so worn upon her, threatening to 
destroy her, sooner than to end by the subjugation of 
her affections, was at last happily oven Gradually her 
face recovered its roundness, and her step its light, elastic 
tread. Although her brown eyes still retained their dreamy 
languor, the troubled, perplexed, wearied look was gone. 

Faithfully, once a month, Carroll Tracey continued 
to write ; and Agatha answered all his letters ; but they 
were not such answers as his heart craved. A sister 
might have written every line that was in them to a 
brother ; and Carroll wished for no sisterly love from 
Agatha. At last, another spring came around, and the 
month approached in which Mr. Tracey had written that 
he intended to return. Agatha named the same month 
to cross with her father and aunt ; and they made their 
preparations to sail in June, and to remain several years 
abroad. While Agatha’s resolute determination to avoid 
meeting Carroll Tracey led her to take this course, she 
was not without hope that the steamers might pass each 
other on their respective ways. She felt that it would 
be something to her heart to have seen the ship that 
contained one who was so dear to her. 


244 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


The last letter that she received from him before 
sailing, was dated at Bologna, and written in the month 
of May. He wrote, ‘ Do you remember, in conver- 
sation with you, I once told you of a dream I had, which 
made such an impression on me that it frequently re- 
curred to my thoughts ? — almost constantly after I met 
you. You asked me to tell you the dream then, but I 
did not. I am going to tell it to you now. Some years 
ago, when I was in this quaint little city, I had had a 
fatiguing day of sight-seeing, exploring hurriedly every 
point of interest it was possible to crowd into one 
day ; and on my return to the hotel, I remarked to a 
companion that I felt such unusual lassitude I feared that 
I had brought with me from Rome a touch of its pesti- 
lential fever. I could not eat, and I went to bed hoping 
that a good nights sleep would bring me around all 
right in the morning. Before I fell asleep, I was con- 
scious that my waking thoughts were peculiarly con- 
fused. Strange fancies came to me and seemed half 
real. Long forgotten stanzas of poems flitted through 
my mind, always with some change in the words that 
rendered them absurd. An intense sense of loneliness 
and desolation came over me, and I longed with an un- 
utterable longing for the cool touch of my mother’s 
hands on my burning forehead. In this state of mind 
I fell asleep at last. In my dreams I was walking over 
bogs, now sinking up to my neck in them, and then ex- 
tricated by terrible dragons, which flying over me, pulled 
me out by the hair of my head. Then I was pursued 
by demons, a precipice before me, over which I fell, 
bounding from rock to rock. But the most fearful vision 
was that, in which I imagined myself stretched upon 
the rack in the dungeons of Ratisbon. I even saw each 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


245 


implement of torture that was to be used in turn. The 
torches were already lighted that were to be held 
under my arms ; when slowly floating down towards 
me, I saw a lovely form in soft draperies of grey — the 
same pictured Madonna, whose face had arrested me 
before it, in entranced admiration, that very day in the 
old palace of Zambecari. She unloosened the cords, 
she took my hand and led me up through dark vaulted 
passages, out into the fresh and balmy air ; nor did she 
leave me then. She guided my footsteps whither she 
would ; and I seemed to move beside her as if I had 
wings, through green dales sparkling with rivulets, lush 
with exuberant foliage, and over breezy uplands, until 
at last we reached the loveliest spot that ever an artist 
painted or a poet portrayed. It might have been fairy 
land, so enchantingly beautiful was the swelling ground 
which, wherever the eye looked, seemed so much more 
lovely than earth’s fairest domains, that nothing out of 
Paradise I am sure could compare with it. Upon a bed 
of roses, spread for me underneath the thick boughs of 
glossy ilex trees, and bordered with acanthus plants, I 
stretched myself for the repose I needed, listening to 
the gurgle and plash of fountains, and the sweet strains 
of melody that seemed to float down from the clouds 
above me, where I saw cherubs and seraphs looking out 
upon us. My Madonna laid her bambino on the roseate 
couch beside me, and with her own hands gathered 
flowers — far more beautiful than any I had ever before 
seen — and brought them to me. Their fragrance seemed 
to intoxicate me, and I dared to seize and press passion- 
ately to my lips the hand that had ministered to me. Her 
sad eyes were filled with the reproaches that found no 
other utterance, as she slowly arose in the air and floated 


246 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


away from me, farther and farther, until she disappeared 
beyond the soft, fleecy clouds from which angels had 
looked down upon us. But still the seraphic music 
filled the air, and still the little bambino frolicked among 
the flowers. Then I awoke, and found myself in the odd 
little chamber of the inn at Bologna, and a street organ 
playing beneath my window. When I first saw you, 
Agatha, I wondered whether it was a mere fancy, or 
whether you really resembled the Madonna of my 
dream. To-day I have again seen the picture, and it 
was almost like looking at your very self. Your eyes 
seemed to look out from the canvas at me, as did those 
of the vision when it spoke the words which I have not 
yet repeated to you ; for when the little one was left 
beside me, its mother said, “ I have brought you my 
child to console you for all you have suffered.” Agatha, 
you are my Madonna, and no Madonna ever possessed 
more entirely the heart of her worshipper than you pos- 
sess mine. All things in life, that are not in some way 
blended or associated with you have lost all interest 
for me. I count the days, the very hours even, that must 
pass before we can meet ; and then, there is no power 
upon earth that can prevent me from using that influence 
over you, which I still feel confident I possess, to 
persuade you to be wholly mine/ 

This was a portion of the last letter that Agatha re- 
ceived before they sailed. Hitherto, she had carefully 
abstained from making any allusions to their anticipated 
tour ; but now, she wrote in reply, 

■ We shall be upon the ocean at the same time, and 
I do not wish to hide from you the pleasure I feel in 
the thought that perhaps I may see the “ Scotia,” in 
which you write that you are to sail ; as we pass each 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


247 


other, to stretch out my hand towards you, to send you 
in thought the kisses that my lips must never give. I 
have never before admitted that I love you, but I owe 
you this much, and no more. I do love you, Carroll, I 
loved you before I knew it — when that love acknowledged 
would have been guilt ; and the agony, the torture that 
it was to me to make this discovery, was only appeased, 
when I learned to look upon the feeling, that sprung up 
unbidden in my heart for you, as not sinful in itself — 
only in the improper indulgence of it. Let me be 
perfectly frank with you, keeping nothing back ; and 
then you will be better able to understand the resolution 
I have taken. In those days when my soul was being 
absorbed by yours, and I knew it not, my life became 
a dream of intense joy. The days passed on golden 
wings. The earth, the sky, the sea, all seemed as if a new 
world had disclosed itself to me. The windows of heaven, 
in short, were opened for me, and I knew the bliss that 
angels know ; for is not love their highest bliss ? I 
walked as one who had wings, and knew not the secret 
of the ineffable joy, the indefinable power that had 
come to me, awakening in me emotions which, until then, 
had lain dormant in my tardily developed nature. I 
asked for nothing more on earth, or in heaven. And 
yet, it never once entered my mind that this was love. 
Not until the hour in which we parted, did this revela- 
tion come to me ; and with it came such mental agony, 
as, were such things possible, would have turned the 
tears I wept to blood. On my knees I had often thanked 
God for sending me this holy consecrated friendship, to 
fill my heart as it had never before been filled. Now 
upon my knees, I begged Him to take me out of life 
and out of all remembrance of the unhallowed love that 


248 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


had debased me in my own sight. Oh, how I longed 
in those days for annihilation ! Day after day, I felt 
my strength growing less, and I rejoiced that it was so. I 
knew that, struggle as I might, I never could conquer 
the idolatrous love you had awakened. I did not at- 
tempt to conceal from myself the knowledge that your 
love was more precious to me than all else in life, but 
with this knowledge came such remorseful self-reproach, 
in that I felt this love for one who was the husband of 
another, as to threaten exhaustion of my vital forces, 
and the crushing out of my life all that made life de- 
sirable. At last, through the experience of a friend, I 
was brought to look upon my own experience in a 
healthier light, to realise that there is no sin in loving, 
only when it is indulged, to the encroaching upon 
the claims of others ; in short, that by it and through it 
we might reach such heights of moral grandeur, as only 
those attain who have overcome “ the world, the flesh 
and the evil one” — that Trinity which seems to take a 
firmer hold upon mortals than the Holy Trinity of our 
creed. And now I come to the result of all this turmoil 
of emotion, which so racked and tore my double nature 
that it came near sundering them, and setting free the 
higher. I have always had in my composition a spice 
of the Roman Catholic devotee — shown in my belief in 
purgatory, and my desire to do penance for my sins. It 
is the penance which I have prescribed for myself to un- 
dergo that which now remains to be told. For that brief 
delirium of joy in which I indulged, before I saw the 
precipice towards which my footsteps were tending, I 
must for ever debar myself the higher joy of being your 
wife. It does not seem to have occurred to you that I 
have looked upon you as free to love and to marry again 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


249 


since Mildred’s marriage ; but when you recall the only 
reason I had for not considering you divorced, you will 
also know why, and how it is, that by her marriage 
she has rendered you free to marry. But my resolution 
is fixed and unalterable, and although I now know 
you to be free, Carroll, I still say, I can never be your 
wife. This is the penance that I have decreed to 
myself, to atone for the humiliation, which in loving you 
I have undergone — it is the sacrifice which I make to 
appease my bruised and wounded self-respect. So only 
can I look into the eyes of others with the calm self- 
assurance of innocence.’ 

This was the substance of Agatha’s letter. When 
she had finished, and despatched it to Carroll Tracey’s 
New York address, there to await his return, she felt the 
heroism that inspires saints and martyrs to their deeds 
of sacrifice. But in the days that followed, this fervour 
almost died out ; and dejected beyond degree, with the 
depression that always folio vs exaltation, she sat on 
the deck of the ocean steamer as it left the harbour of 
New York, looking wistfully back to the shore where, in 
a few days, Carroll Tracey was to land. 





PART III. 


‘The old drama of passions and temptations is always 
being repeated with new scenes/ 


































































































































































































<e. 








































































































































































































































































































































































CHAPTER I. 


The travellers landed at Queenstown, and after 
visiting several points of interest, the lovely Lake of 
Killarney, the Giant’s Causeway, and the wonderfully 
beautiful scenery in its vicinity, they crossed to Scotland ; 
lingering long about its weird lakes, its breezy downs 
and heathery slopes; then, after thoroughly enjoying Eng- 
land, — where picturesque scenery is combined with asso- 
ciations eminently interesting, from historical events, or 
from memories of departed authors and statesmen, — 
they found the autumn drawing so near its close that 
they were compelled to make all haste to reach Italy 
before the winter set in. 

4 When once we are on the other side of the Alps,’ 
said Mr. Lee, briskly rubbing his hands in front of a 
blazing fire in their parlour at 4 Hotel des Quatres 
Saisons,’ in Munich, 4 when once we are on the other 
side of the Alps, we shall find a more salubrious climate. 
We will not need fires in sunny Italy.’ 

In Aunt Hester’s and Agatha’s minds, arose visions 
of orange groves, flowers blooming in mid-winter in the 
open air, trees never leafless ; and over all, a sky of 
enamel, softly, yet intensely blue, white fleecy clouds, 
zephyrs laden with the perfumes of odorous blossoms, 
and vocal with the songs of birds. 

It was in the first days of December that they 


254 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


reached * la bella Firenze/ rightly named for its exquisite 
beauty of situation ; but what disappointment for Agatha 
and her aunt, and to Mr. Lee even, who had never be- 
fore been in Italy during the winter months, to find the 
trees already shorn of their verdure, traces of snow on 
the purple Apennines, and the piercing Tramontana 
sweeping down from them with its sharp icy breath ! 
The Arno, with which Agatha had most poetical asso- 
ciations, conjuring it up in fancy as a tranquil, limpid 
stream, flowing in stately beauty to the sea, its green 
banks glistening with marble villas and crowned with 
grey mediaeval castles, she found instead, rushing 
headlong through the heart of the city, washing the 
foundations of block after block of structures, time- 
stained, and dingy as its own turbid waters. 

Not until they had taken their first drive on the 
Cascine and to some neighbouring villas, back on the 
wooded heights, did they begin to realise how much of 
beauty Florence possesses — beauty, which even in mid- 
winter attracts strangers from all parts of the globe to 
make it their home ; and not until after the galleries of 
the Academy, the Uffizzi, and the Pitti, had beguiled 
away morning after morning of their stay, did they com- 
prehend why it is that the 4 forestieri/ once settled there, 
are so loth to leave. 

Society too enforced its claims upon them ; for Mr. 
Lee, upon his arrival, had met an old college friend, who 
had for years been settled in Florence as a permanent 
resident ; and in the Diplomatic Corps, he found one of the 
foreign ministers to be a man known to him intimately 
in America, during the years in which he had there 
served his King in the same capacity. So the wide gates 
of American society flew open to receive them ; and the 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


255 


narrower door of foreign society as readily admitted 
them, endorsed as they were by one of their own num- 
ber. And, all three speaking French as fluently as they 
did, they saw life in the then capital of Italy under the 
most favourable circumstances. 

Agatha welcomed the whirl that took her out of 
herself. Not a line had she received from Carroll Tracey 
since he had landed in America ; and not until his letters 
had ceased, did she know how far they had contributed 
towards making their separation endurable to her. She 
read of his arrival home in a New York journal, and 
this was all. 

It was at a ball, given in the lavishly adorned apart- 
ments of an American millionaire, that Agatha one 
evening came suddenly upon Mildred and Frank Morti- 
mer, of whose arrival in Florence she had not even 
heard. The surprise was mutual, but as Agatha looked 
into the changed face of her friend, she wondered what 
new sorrow was leaving its impress there. Her cousin 
too, Agatha found greatly changed. Not that his face 
bore the worn, weary look, that characterised Mildred’s ; 
but there were restless glances of his eyes, and a scorn- 
ful curl of his well-shaped lips that Agatha had never 
seen before. It was as if he looked out upon the world 
defiantly, as one who knows not at what moment he 
may be compelled to resent some rudeness. Mr. Lee, 
his sister, and Count RiplofT, were standing near ; and 
conversation had turned upon Madame Garazzi, a well- 
known Italian beauty, who was seated within sight, 
wearing the coronet that by birth she had a right to 
wear ; although by her marriage not acquiring ^any. 
Her husband, if not belonging to a noble family, 
was one of those who possess that nobility which is of 


256 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


far more value, namely, of soul and of culture. Madame 
Garazzi was as usual surrounded by gentlemen ; but one 
could not help remarking that no lady ever joined her. 

1 Is it true/ asked Aunt Hester, 4 that she has no 
friends among the Italian ladies ? — that they do not 
hold any intercourse with her ? — that one and all have 
waged war with her ? ’ 

* One would be scarcely justified in saying that/ re- 
plied Count Riploff. ‘ In society people seldom quarrel 
openly ; but the women can never forgive Madame 
Garazzi for the book she wrote, full of local allusions 
that cut right and left.’ 

‘ Ah, was it a book ? ’ inquired Mr. Lee. ‘ I gave 
them credit for turning a cold shoulder for better 
reasons. I thought her intimacy with the King was the 
cause/ 

Count Riploff gave a very slight but expressive 
shrug as he answered, ‘ Then Florence would not be the 
paradise that it is for women whose lives have not been 
blameless. Is it possible that you are ignorant of the 
fact that every woman with a blighted name takes refuge 
here, and finds as much protection as did the culprits of 
old when they seized hold of the horns of the altar ? ’ 

Mildred heard every word, and Agatha saw her press 
one hand tightly over her heart, as with a flushed face, 
she cast a nervous glance at her husband. He, however, 
was engrossed by a Miss Watkins, a pretty American, 
who, besides her charming face and figure and well-bred 
air, was said to have several hundred-thousand attractions; 
or would, in time, inherit them. Near by, in a corner, were 
three or four dowagers, who, assisted by Mr. Clawson, 
were canvassing the rumours connected with Mildred’s 
divorce ; for Mr. Clawson, with the Athertons and Mr. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


257 


Jenkins, made a part of the American colony at 
Florence. 

‘They say in New York that man who sings so well, 
who was always with her, was the cause of the divorce/ 
said one of the ladies. ‘You know the one whom I 
mean ; he is notorious for talking about his affairs. Mrs. 
Tracey sings too, — Mrs. Mortimer, I should say. One 
can’t be expected to remember names when people are 
divorced one month, and married the next.’ 

‘ I daresay you mean Paul Howard/ answered Mr. 
Clawson. 

‘ The very one. They say he has followed her to 
Europe too.’ 

‘ Which is not very probable, as he and Mr. Mortimer 
are lawyers, associated together, and could not leave at 
the same time. But you are quite sure, Mrs. Dedham, 
that he was the cause of the divorce ? ’ 

‘ Oh yes, I am certain of that, I heard all the parti- 
culars.’ 

‘ I am glad I was able to recall the name to your 
memory. I wanted to fix upon the man, because, happen- 
ing to know the true story, I wished to learn how far 
people could go astray. In this instance, rumour is nearer 
right than usual/ 

‘ There, didn’t I tell you so ? * exclaimed Mrs. Ded- 
ham triumphantly. ‘ Mrs. Jordan declared there had 
been no scandal.’ 

‘ Mrs. Jordan was right/ continued Mr. Clawson. 
‘ And yet Howard was the cause of the divorce ; for he 
showed Mrs. Tracey some impertinence which led 
both husband and wife to agree to a separation. Not 
on account of any imprudence on her part however ; 
but simply because it brought about a denouement , after 

s 


258 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


long years of endurance of all those evils, small and 
great, that necessarily arise in the married state, when 
persons, not suited to each other in tastes and tempera- 
ments, have rashly entered into it. That the lawyer 
employed by Mr. Tracey wound up the case by marry- 
ing the fair divorcee ought to afford sufficient proof that 
there was no guilt on her part. I do not know Mrs. 
Mortimer ; but I am going to have myself presented, 
and see what kind of a woman she is/ 

Mrs. Dedham assuming a severely virtuous expres- 
sion answered, ‘ I should think her marrying again with- 
in a few m onths after her divorce was obtained, shows 
what kind of a woman she is. I hope you will not in- 
troduce her to me.’ 

‘ That would be a liberty I should never think of 
taking,’ he replied. 

Crossing the room, Mr. Clawson joined a more at- 
tractive group, in an opposite corner ; Colonel Potten 
and Miss Lennox being of the group. 

‘ How did you manage to escape ? ’ asked a pretty 
young blonde, making a place on the sofa beside her. 

‘ Now reward me, for this seat, by telling me the last 
good thing that “ the duchess ” has got off. No hope of 
her ever equalling the “ distantly but certainly ” story, I 
fear.’ 

‘ Yes, I have something better than that to tell you. 
You saw how I was waylaid, and how resignedly I sub- 
mitted myself to the exigency. I was rewarded. “ The 
duchess ” informed me that her ball is to come off on 
the thirtieth, and asked me to keep myself disengaged. 
I replied that I should be sure to do so, as I well knew 
I would meet “ all the world ” in her salons. She 
smiled graciously, and with a deprecatory wave of her 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


25 $ 


hand said, “ Oh no, not quite all the world, perhaps ; 
but demi-monde , demi-monde ; of that you may be 
sure.” ’ 

‘ What did the woman mean ? ’ asked the blonde, 
turning to Miss Lennox, the colour increasing in her 
cheeks ; for she was one whose bloom had not been 
brushed off as yet by her contact with those in society 
who delight in experimenting as to how broadly they 
may talk.’ 

‘ That half the world would be there ! it is an ex- 
cellent illustration of her French ; which will be the 
death of me yet,’ answered Miss Lennox ; * but what 
was the other story, May ? ’ — the “ distantly but cer- 
tainly.” ’ 

‘ Mr. Clawson will tell you. I heard it from him/ 

c I won’t vouch for the truth of it,’ said Mr. Clawson, 

* but, as the story goes, Hawkins, who had heard that 
Mrs. Dedham claimed connection with the Bourbon 
family, asked her if she was related, and she answered, 
“ Distantly but certainly.” ’ 

‘ That accounts for her speaking French so well,’ 
said Miss Lennox laughing. ‘ I never hear her at- 
tempts without remembering what a humorous friend of 
mine said in reference to the irregular verbs — that he 
had heard they gave a great deal of trouble, but 
that he never permitted them to trouble him, for he 
regulated them all to suit himself. Why, there is Mil- 
dred Tracey ! well, I do believe everyone I know has 
come to Europe. Mr. Clawson, would you object to 
taking me across the room to speak with her ? ’ 

‘ Delighted,’ said Mr. Clawson, offering his arm. 

* Will you present me to her, but do not call her Mrs. 
Tracey. You know she is married to Frank Mortimer.’ 


260 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


Miss Lennox had but a few moments’ conversation 
with Mrs. Mortimer before Mr. Clawson found an op- 
portunity to appropriate her ; and leaving Miss Lennox 
with Agatha and her friends, he made a promenade with 
the beautiful woman, delighting in the consciousness 
that he was attracting general observation, and that Mrs. 
Dedham was inwardly fuming over his having extended 
his protection to one whom she had already resolved to 
put down, so far as her influence could avail in doing so. 

‘ Don’t you think Mildred awfully changed ? ’ asked 
Miss Lennox of Agatha. 

‘Yes, she is changed ; but how lovely she looks ! I 
have been trying to make out what it is, for without 
losing any of her beauty she looks far more delicate and 
ethereal.’ 

‘ It is her expression that has changed ; she has more 
thought — more ’ 

i Ah, but an expression I do not like to see on her 
face,’ interrupted Agatha. ‘ It has suffering in it; still, 
whatever it is, it has so elevated and spiritualised her 
beauty that it is heightened not lessened by it.’ 

‘ She has come to the right place to soothe her suffer- 
ings ; “ Misery loves company,” you know ; and she will 
find many here whose disregard of the laws of les con- 
venances has more than equalled her own. Your cousin, 
too, will find no end of opportunities to keep his hand in, 
which was the excuse that he once made to me for his 
endless flirtations.’ 

Agatha remembered when and where he had made 
use of the same expression to her. She answered, 

‘ I trust that his flirtations have come to an end now 
that he is a married man. No man who cares to keep 
his wife’s affection would flirt ; or, if he did, he must 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


261 


give his wife equal privileges, and Frank is too jealous 
to do that, I am sure/ 

‘ As for his flirtations having come to an end, you 
can see for yourself how basely you wrong him if you 
glance in that boudoir, where he has enticed Miss Wat- 
kins, evidently doing his best to convince her that 
he is another victim to her charms/ 

Agatha glanced in that direction, and saw enough 
to cause her to think she had divined the source of 
Mildred’s suffering. 4 Her Oswald is true to his proto- 
type/ she thought. 

Meantime Mr. Clawson and Mrs. Mortimer, having 
made a tour of the rooms, wore seated on a divan in a 
wide corridor, where a constant stream of people were 
passing. 

< Shall I have the pleasure of meeting you to-morrow 
evening, at Count Centori’s ball ? * he asked. 

4 We do not know him ; we have only just come to 
Florence,’ she answered. 

* That is he, standing in the opposite door. If you 
will allow me, I will present him to you/ 

f Not unless he asks to be presented/ 

‘ But he has been asking as plainly as eyes can 
for the last quarter of an hour. The moment that I 
leave you, I am sure he will join me, and ask to be in- 
troduced to you.’ 

Mr. Clawson made a scarcely noticeable signal, and 
Count Centori crossed and was presented. 

Later in the evening, when Miss Watkins was 
claimed by her partner for the cotillon , Mr. Mortimer 
bethought himself of looking after his wife ; and finding 
her seated between two men, neither of whom were 
known to him, he made inquiries, which resulted in his 


262 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


hearing that Mr. Clawson was an American, best known 
for his fondness for notoriety ; and that Count Centori 
was the greatest rout in Florence. Both men had them- 
selves presented when he joined his wife ; but his 
manner was such that they soon left him in undisputed 
possession, at liberty to take her to her carriage which 
he had announced was in waiting. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


263 


CHAPTER II. 

The next day, when Mildred and her husband came in 
from their drive in the Cascine, they found Count 
Centori’s cards, and an invitation to his ball. 

‘ How thoughtful of the Count, and how kind ! for 
you know you should have called first, after the intro- 
duction. It is the custom of the country.’ 

‘ I would have seen him in Tophet before I would 
have called,’ he answered. ‘ I am not going to run 
after any counts, nor have any counts running aftei 
you.’ 

Mildred’s eyes flashed, but quickly recovering hei 
temper, she said, 

‘ How unreasonable you are ! Can you not accept a 
civility in the same spirit in which it is offered ? ’ 

‘Not from a jackanapes of an Italian, who thinks, 
because he has a title, that he does me an honour by 
making love to my wife.’ 

* Frank, how insulting you are ! ’ 

He made no answer, but, drawing off his gloves, 
twisted his blonde moustache into shape, as he stood in 
front of a mirror. 

Mildred approached him, laying one hand upon his 
shoulder. ‘ I thought you would be very much pleased to 
get this invitation, which enables you, if you avail your- 
self of it, to see something of foreign society without 


264 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


such a large mixture of the American element as one 
finds in American houses. Why then do you make it 
the occasion of cruelty to me ? for indeed it is cruel to 
show such distrust of me.’ 

Frank Mortimer slightly moved the shoulder on 
which rested the lovely hand — so lovely that a sculptor 
had the previous evening begged permission to model 
it ; but slight as was the movement, it was sufficient to 
cause Mildred to withdraw it. 

‘ What is the matter with you, Frank ? It seems to 
me that I cannot please you, try as I may. I did not 
care for this invitation for myself, for I am not strong 
enough to go to balls, I find. I wish you would tell 
me if I have displeased you in any way ; but don’t be 
so moody. You have scarcely spoken to me during our 
drive, and now you are absolutely unkind. What is 
the matter ? ’ 

i I will not have your name associated with Count 
Centori. We will go to the ball ; but if he comes here 
you are never to receive him, and if he joins you on the 
Cascine you are to answer in monosyllables.’ 

4 1 prefer not to accept any courtesy from him if I 
am to be uncourteous in return,’ she answered coldly. 

‘ Surely, a man whom your cousin Agatha receives it is 
proper for me to receive.’ 

‘ If you do not know that what Agatha can do with 
impunity you cannot do, you will find it out sooner or 
later. I told you last night that this Count Centori has 
the reputation of being the most unprincipled libertine 
in Florence, and that is saying a great deal in a place 
where all men are supposed to be libertines. I can 
assure you it was anything but agreeable for me to find 
you seated between such a man and another scarcely 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


265 


less objectionable, for Clawson is one of those hum- 
bugs who, under the pretence of upholding a woman, 
helps to damn her, by publishing his own version of 
her wrongs and the magnanimity he has shown in 
defending her. He is a gas-pipe — a bag of wind ! I 
detest such men.’ 

4 You are very unreasonable, and very unjust, I think. 
If I have put myself in a situation to need defence, as I 
most certainly have, you should not blame Mr. Clawson 
for defending me, if indeed he has, which from a remark 
that he dropped accidentally I think he may have done. 
He was at college with Mr. Tracey, and possibly he has 
heard through him the particulars which neither you nor 
I need blush to have made known/ 

6 It was the height of bad breeding, if not of imper- 
tinence, in the man to have alluded to the past in any 
way, or to having made any defence of you. I do not 
wish to know any more of him ; and more than this, I 
wish you to cut him dead the very next time you meet 
him.’ 

4 That I cannot do,’ answered Mildred with dignity. 

‘ I will stay at home most willingly — bury myself if you 
desire it ; but I will never be rude to anyone who has 
shown me nothing but kindness.’ 

A bright spot glowed on either cheek, and her eyes 
held in them all the resolution of her tone and manner. 

4 There is a wise old adage that I often have occa- 
sion for remembering,’ said Frank Mortimer. ‘ “ Marry in 
haste, and repent at leisure.” ’ As he spoke, he glanced 
at Mildred from the corners of his eyes, in the smoulder- 
ing fire of which a very devil seemed lurking. 

Every vestige of colour fled from her face— even her 
lips became ashy pale. For a moment she covered her 


266 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


eyes with one hand, then, withdrawing it, she met his 
glance, as she said, 

< Frank, I have often been made to feel that 
you regretted our marriage — that my love did not 
repay you for the annoyances that it has brought upon 
you ; but I never expected to hear you say that it 
is so. I am glad that you have said it, for it gives 
me courage to tell you that which I was too cowardly 
to tell you before that which T have kept from you 
because of my wish to save you from one unnecessary 
pang.’ 

She hesitated ; and he, with the same lurking spirit 
of evil in his eyes, asked her, sneeringly, 

‘ What have you kept from me ? Have you already 
arranged a rendezvous with this Count ? * 

Before he could finish his sentence, Mildred, spring- 
ing to her feet, confronted him, her eyes aflame with 
angry light 

‘ There is a point b.eyond which forbearance ceases 
to be a virtue,’ she said. 

*And which point, having reached, I suppose you 
will now cease to be virtuous,’ he answered, with an in- 
solent smile at his coarse jest. 

She held her hands over her ears as if to shut out 
his words ; the colour came and went ; her eyes had in 
them the look of some poor hunted thing that, turning 
upon its pursuers, beseeches mutely for mercy. Still the 
sneer lingered on Frank Mortimer’s lips, and the 
smouldering blaze glowered in his eyes. 

Then dropping on her knees beside him, she said, 
seizing his hand, 

‘ For pity’s sake, Frank, tell me that you did not 
mean what you said ; tell me that you were angry 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 267 

with me, and that you did not know what you were 
saying/ 

He drew his hand away. ‘ I will dine at the club to- 
day. I have no fondness for scenes,’ he answered ; and, 
taking his hat, left the apartment. 

When the door had closed, Mildred arose, walked to 
the pier-glass, and, lookingly steadily at the white reflec- 
tion of herself, all the time pressing both hands tightly 
over her heart, she said,* in a tone that would have been 
theatrical but for the intense feeling that was in her 
voice, 

‘ How much longer ? I wonder, how much longer ? 
Oh, what a wretched mistake my whole life has been ! ’ 

Then, as a few lines of Mrs. Browning’s poetry came 
to her mind, she repeated them aloud, 

And is it wisely done 

If we, who cannot gaze above, should walk the earth alone ? 

If we, whose virtue is so weak, should have a will so strong, 

And stand blind on the rocks to choose the right path from the wrong ? 

She did not hear the Jow tap on the closed door, 
neither was she aroused by the opening of it that quickly 
followed. : 

Agatha entered alone ? . but stood transfixed as she 
saw Mildred standing before the glass, apparently talk- 
ing to the reflection of herself. Her first movement to 
approach her attracted' Mildred’s attention, who, turn- 
ing, threw herself into Agatha’s arms, and, closely held 
there, wept like a tired child in her embrace. 

' Mildred, how dreadfully your heart beats ! * 

‘ This is nothing ; ft is much worse than this at 
times.’ 

'But it is something, Mildred. You must see a 
physician at once. Let me send for one this moment.’ 


268 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


Mildred shook her head. * I will tell you what I 
have told no one. I have seen a physician about it — two 
physicians — one of them the most eminent in London 
for heart disease, whom my own doctor at home advised 
me to consult. They agree in their opinion that nothing 
can be done for me. I may live for years, and I may 
die at any moment. I have not had the courage to tell 
my husband.’ 

4 Say rather that you have had the heroism to keep 
the knowledge from him ; but he must know it, that he 
may guard you from all excitement. I know how bad 
excitements are for any heart trouble. You must not 
think of going to any more balls. We will let Frank go 
by himself, and I will stay with you, for they bore me 
more and more. We will have such pleasant evenings 
together.’ 

Agatha was not one to be denied when once she had 
determined what she would do, and she persisted in 
carrying out her intentions. She it was who warned 
Frank of the perilous nature of the disease which sooner 
or later must terminate Mildred’s life. At first he was 
thoroughly alarmed, and hastened to assure his wife that 
he had not spoken in earnest the wounding words that 
had rankled since in her heart like arrows turning in their 
wounds ; but as the days glided by into weeks, and he 
saw no marked change, Mildred seeming to grow stronger, 
his fears became quieted, and he again entered into the 
gaiety, which for a time he had deprived himself of. 

For the greater convenience of Agatha, Mr. Lee re- 
moved his family to the hotel where his nephew had 
taken ‘ an apartment.’ While he did not entirely ap- 
prove of Agatha’s immuring herself as she was now 
doing, he did not offer serious opposition to her 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


269 


course. But he made it a point that she should ac- 
company her aunt and himself to the royal ball, and 
urged Mildred to accompany them. When the day came 
round, Agatha, finding that Mildred had no thoughts of 
going, refused to leave her ; and after the others had 
left, went to her room to stay with her, as she never 
retired until her husband’s return, no matter how late he 
might remain. 

‘ What shall I read to you to-night ?’ asked Agatha, 
picking up a little volume of poetry that lay near her on 
the table. 

* I feel more in the mood for talking to-night. “ Roba 
di Roma ” has filled my mind with thoughts of Rome ; 
and if I could borrow a pair of wings I would fly there. 
Frank said he would go when this ball was over, but 
now he wishes to wait for a dinner that will not come 
off for a week/ 

* Why will you not go with us, and let him follow at 
his leisure ? ’ asked Agatha. ‘ I cannot tell you how sad 
it makes me to think of leaving you here. That is why 
I would not go to the ball to-night, because we are so 
soon to be separated/ 

* I was sure that you stayed at home on my account, 
although you would not admit it before. You are too 
good to me, Agatha/ 

‘ No, I did not stay at home on your account, but for 
my own pleasure, which I was selfish enough to prefer 
to that of my father and aunt. I stayed at home be- 
cause you were not able to go, and because I would not 
have had one moment’s happiness without you. So, you 
see, it was pure selfishness.’ 

‘Never call yourself selfish. You are the most un- 
selfish person I have ever known. Think how you used 


270 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


to sit and write by the hour for Carroll when he was 
making that translation at Newport. I am sure I would 
not have done as much for him, although he was then 
my husband.’ 

Agatha’s face grew scarlet. Mildred continued, 

4 1 have been thinking a great deal of him lately — of 
the fearful wrong I committed in marrying him as I did ; 
and I have wished so much to talk to you about him, 
and to leave a message with you for him in case I should 
not live to return, as I sometimes fancy I never will. 
Would you deliver it to him, Agatha ? ’ 

‘ Certainly I would ; but do not let us get the blues 
to-night, as we shall if we talk over such matters.’ 

‘ There is no time like the present. I shall feel 
happier to know that he will be sure to hear some day 
how kindly I feel towards him, and how much I have 
wished that I could in some way atone for all the un- 
happiness I have brought him. Agatha, is it not terrible 
to think what life-long misery is sometimes the result of 
one mad act ? Do you think everything in this world is 
just as God intended it should be ? ’ 

‘ Do not ask me, Mildred, dear. All my life it has 
perplexed me to discover where free will ends and fate 
begins. Some one has said that life is a school, and sin 
and sorrow are its teachers. I have not a doubt 
that all will be made clear to us in the future, but now 
life is a greater mystery to me than death.’ 

‘ So it is to me,’ answered Mildred. * I am not afraid 
to die, but I am afraid to live. Agatha, I made my second 
fatal mistake when I married your cousin. No woman 
situated as I was should marry a second time ; and still 
worse, I was so weak as to be persuaded into marrying too 
soon. It is a terrible thing for a man to marry a woman 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


271 


who is talked about as people must talk of me — a 
terrible thing for & sensitive man to feel that half the 
world are pitying him for being taken in, and the other 
half despising him for it/ 

‘ Pray do not talk so, Mildred. I had no idea that 
this is what is preying upon you. Whoever knows 
anything about your divorce and it is a very, very 
small part of the world that does know — knows also 
that your present husband was Mr. Tracey’s lawyer, 
and his having married you proves your innocence of 
any such charges as those that you fancy. Now do not 
let such thoughts possess your mind for one moment 
even. Poor Mildred ! ’ and rising and bending over her, 
she kissed her forehead. ‘ Who could ever have conceived 
the idea that you were worrying over such fancies ? Of 
course, Frank has never suspected it, or he would soon 
have set your mind at rest for ever, by telling you that 
he cares very little for what men say, knowing you for 
the dear, true, loving wife that you are to him/ Agatha 
remained standing by the lounge where Mildred was 
reclining. 

‘ You are right. I have never spoken to Frank on this 
subject ; but I will be perfectly candid with you. If I 
had not seen how keenly Frank feels every look and com- 
ment, I might never have realised as I do now what a 
curse my love has been to him. But this is not what 
I wished to talk to you about. Draw your chair nearer, 
and sit down by me, Agatha.’ 

Agatha did as she was bidden. Still holding the 
volume of poetry in one hand, and placing the other on 
Mildred’s head, she said, 4 1 see that you are exciting your- 
self, and I cannot let you talk any more on these sub- 
jects. I will read you this little poem which I opened at 


272 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND 


by chance, and which was written by one who, like 
ourselves, has been perplexed by life’s problems, but 
who has learned that it is good to trust to God to lead 
us when we have lost our way, as both you and I have, 
dear Mildred, at times.’ 

So Agatha read the poem, and then, seeing tears 
forcing their way through Mildred’s closed eyelids, she 
said, 

' You are too weak to-night ; I must not even read to 
you. I am going to leave you, that you may sleep and 
get composed before Frank returns.’ 

Mildred did not object ; but as Agatha stooped over 
her to kiss her, she held her fast, and whispered, 

'Tell Carroll that, as long as I lived, I prayed God 
to make him as happy as he would have been if he had 
never met me ; and that I feel the assurance my prayer 
will be granted.’ 

Agatha slipped down upon her knees by the side of 
Mildred’s couch, and, passing her hand over her forehead 
soothingly, said, 

‘ Mildred, have you never thought that his life may 
be all the happier in the end through his having known 
you ? It is good to trust, you know, when we cannot see 
the way— good to trust the hand that leads us, Mildred. 
Do not forget that. Our Heavenly Father draws all His 
children home at last, no matter how far they have 
wandered away from Him, and perhaps, in another life, 
if not in this, Carroll Tracey will be happier than he 
ever could have been had it not been for the discipline 
he has had here, through your lives having been blended 
together for a time. The hard kernels of experience 
that we plant in this world must bear rich fruits some- 
where ; if not in time, in eternity.’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


273 


* Yes, it must be so. I have never lost my faith in 
God’s goodness, nor in His mercy. I know He will make 
all that is dark to us here clear as the noonday there — 
all that conflicts with our ideas of Him, straight 
and plain. Yes, He leads us all home at last. That 
thought has been in my mind so constantly lately. 
Kiss me once more, Agatha, dear Agatha ; good 
night.’ 

Again and again Agatha kissed her ; feeling such a 
reluctance to leave her alone, that after she had closed 
the door she opened it, but seeing Mildred lying 
with closed eyes, shut it softly, and went to her 
chamber. 

The next morning, soon after daybreak, Agatha 
was awakened by a rap on her door, which, before she 
had time to answer, was quickly followed by another 
and another. As soon as she could wrap her dress- 
ing-gown around her, and put her feet into her slippers, 
she opened the door, the knocks continuing with little 
intermission. Her cousin stood there, just as he had re- 
turned from the ball — even his gloves still on ; but no 
living face was ever of a ghastlier hue than his. 

‘ For God’s sake, come and see what is the matter 
with Mildred ! She is lying like one dead, and I cannot 
arouse her.’ 

Agatha, seized with a cold shudder, and trembling in 
every limb, followed him. 

Mildred lay on the lounge, just as Agatha had left 
her — too beautiful for death. She seemed as if in a 
sweet sleep, so heavenly was the smile her marble- white 
face wore upon its lips. 

‘ Surely, she is sleeping ! ’ exclaimed Agatha. ‘ So 
tranquilly, too ; do not let us disturb her.’ 

T 


274 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


Still Agatha’s teeth were chattering from the fear 
that it was the sleep of death. She kissed her on the 
lips. Their icy coldness sent a chill to her heart. 

‘ Kiss me once more Agatha, dear Agatha ; good 
night,’ were the last words that would ever fall from 
them upon mortal ears. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


275 


CHAPTER III. 

Agatha had been several weeks in Rome, before she 
had sufficiently recovered from the shock of Mildred’s 
sudden death to think of writing the message to Carroll 
Tracey which she had promised to deliver. Then 
she began to feel that she was neglecting a sacred 
duty, and yet, as often as she sat down to the task, as 
often did she arise without commencing it. How could 
she write to him again, as long as her last letter remained 
unanswered ? 

One morning, when their letters were brought in 
from the banker’s, Agatha received one with the well- 
known hand writing. The joy of seeing it again sent 
the blood through her veins as if propelled by the strokes 
of a sledge-hammer. She held it a long time without 
breaking the seal, fancying all there might be with- 
in it, for it never occurred to her that it could be other 
than one of those closely filled epistles he had been 
in the habit of writing. At last, she broke the seal, and, 
opening it, saw within only one of Mrs. Browning’s 
sonnets, copied : 

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand 
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore 
Alone upon the threshold of my door 
Of individual life, I shall command 
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand 


276 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


Serenely in the sunshine as before, 

Without the sense of that which I forbore — 

Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land 
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine 
With pulses that beat double. What I do 
And what I dream include thee, as the wine 
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue 
God for myself, He hears that name of thine, 

And sees within my eyes the tears of two. 

Certainly an hour had passed, and still Agatha sat 
as if stupefied, holding the letter in her hand, and read- 
ing the sonnet over and over as if she had not yet 
caught its meaning. 

‘ That letter does not seem so long that it need to 
engross you so, Agatha,’ her aunt said at last. 

‘ I am astounded by the coincidence,’ she answered, 
folding it, and putting it out of sight. ‘Do you re- 
member, Aunt Hester, telling me how you received 
letters containing only quotations ? It is the strangest 
thing that ever happened, but I have received just such 
a one. Did you ever know anything so remarkable ? ’ 

‘ Human nature is the same in all its generations. The 
histories of love repeat themselves as do the histories 
of the nations,’ replied her aunt. 

That same morning Agatha’s letter containing Mil- 
dred’s message was written and despatched, but no allu- 
sion made to the sonnet ; and then she began to count the 
days that must elapse before the answer could reach her. 
Rome seemed to her the saddest place on earth to dwell 
in ; but it was not alone the haunting, solemn memories 
of its majestic past that cast such sombre shadows 
over the city. It was the freshness of the loss she had 
sustained, and the irrepressible longing for love and 
sympathy that filled her soul — a love that she had but 
to reach out her hand to receive in its fullest and richest 
measure, and which in still denying herself she was doing 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


277 


violence not only to her own heart but to the heart of 
another. Rome seen in such hours could not fail to be 
both desolate and dreary. Its bluest sky, its brightest 
sunshine, could not lift from her heart the weight that 
oppressed it. Go where she would, from the endless 
galleries of the treasure-stored Vatican to those of the 
Capitol, and the numerous palace collections — from one 
magnificent ruin to another — from the lovely Pincian 
with its inspiring view to the broad Campagna, where 
the Sabine and Alban mountains seemed melting into 
gold and purple mists — go where she would, there 
was no beauty of nature so exquisite, no works of art 
so pleasing or so grand, that Agatha could enjoy as she 
would have done had not thoughts of Mildred and of 
one other haunted her like ghosts that refuse to be 
exorcised. 

As they were driving along the Via Appia Vecchia 
one afternoon, after having visited the catacombs of St. 
Calixtus, Agatha said, ‘ I remember once, as a school 
girl, having been terribly perplexed by a subject given 
me for a composition — “ Dead Cities.” Had I ever visited 
Rome I would have known what to have written. As it 
was, I took Herculaneum and Pompeii, and gave the 
reins to my imagination/ 

4 St. Calixtus is literally a city of the dead,’ remarked 
Aunt Hester, ‘ and a city that I should never care to 
visit again. I felt all the time we were exploring one 
after another of its narrow streets, turning down passages 
to the right and to the left, intersected as they are by 
cross passages in every direction, that nothing would 
ever tempt me to risk my life in another catacomb 
That the guide could find his way out of it does not 
seem half so wonderful to me as that the crumbling old 
arches did not fall down and bury us all alive/ 


278 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


‘ I never thought of fear,’ said Agatha. 

‘ Well, I must confess to having experienced some- 
thing of the same terror that your aunt felt,’ said Mr. 
Lee. * One catacomb is quite enough for me. We will 
dispense with the others. I am afraid, had I lived in the 
times of the early Christians, I would have remained a 
pagan if for no other reason than on account of the 
superiority of their tombs. Only look at the fragments 
of sculpture that strew the ground on either side, and 
then erect in your imagination the elegant structures 
that these tombs which once lined the Via Appia must 
have been ! Those that we visited yesterday, on the 
Via Latina too, with their exquisite bas-reliefs in the in- 
terior of classical and mythological subjects, and their 
gems of paintings, charming female figures, fruits and 
flowers, what cheerful and lovely abodes for the ashes 
of the dead. Yes! I would have been a pagan most 
assuredly.’ 

< It is not all of life to live, nor all of death to die, 
and be buried,’ said Aunt Hester sententiously. 

‘ We know very little of the beyond,’ said Mr. Lee. 

‘ Enough to know that it matters not where the body 
is laid, after the spirit has flown,’ answered Aunt Hester. 
* Such a reproof as we have before us, for those who 
built such grand mausoleums for their worthless clay; 
their very ashes blown to the four winds of heaven.’ 

At this moment a carriage whirled past them ; its 
occupant, a man, touching his hat as the horses dashed 
onwards. 

‘ Who was that ? ’ said Mr. Lee. 

i Some one who bears a remarkable resemblance to 
Ormus Davenport,’ answered Agatha. 

i Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you that I saw in one 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


279 


of the English journals that he has just come into pos- 
session of some property in England, and that estates in 
another county with the baronetcy will fall to him, in 
event of the death of the present owner; so Daven- 
port may yet be Sir Ormus.’ 

( Ah, that is what has brought him over then, I dare- 
say ; and it must have been he. But why did he not 
stop to speak to us, I wonder ? ’ 

‘ I thought the horses seemed to be rather unma- 
nageable,’ said Aunt Hester. 

On, over the old, black, square paving stones, they 
slowly pursued their way, along the narrow, straight 
road, past the noble tomb of Cecilia Metella, and the 
nameless one far beyond, on whose summit olive trees 
and grape vines thrive, and peasants’ smiling faces look 
down from their cottage door, reaching at last the 
tower of basalt which Rome’s barbarian invaders reared 
for purposes of defence upon the massive foundations of 
a tomb. Here they paused to enjoy the grand panorama 
that was spread out before them as far as the eye could 
reach. Between them and the Eternal City, once the 
world’s proud capital, lay the Campagna’s broad breast, 
scarred with the ruins that the ages had left upon it, 
while midway, the broken arches of the Claudian and 
Marcian aqueducts spanned it like girdles, rent here 
and there by the struggles of the conqueror, Time. 
Green vines clambered everywhere over grey ruins, and 
did their best to cover their ugly gaps and fissures. 
Frascati and Albano gleamed and flashed from the hill- 
sides, and high above them Rocca di Papa frowned 
down in solitary grandeur. 

As they were slowly walking, followed by their 
carriage, their attention was attracted by cries in the 


280 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


distance, and the unusual sight of a commotion among 
the labourers on the road just where it turns, and is lost 
to sight in the close vicinity of the railway. A train 
had whizzed past, and now, as the smoke and dust 
scattered, they saw two horses madly plunging across 
the Campagna. Mr. Lee hurried his sister and Agatha 
into their carriage, and driving rapidly onwards they 
soon came to the scene of the accident. They found the 
former occupant of the carriage seated upon a fragment 
of a tomb, assiduously nursing his right ankle, which 
seemed to be giving him no little pain. 

‘ Zounds, Davenport ! Is that you ? If you had not 
been in such a confounded hurry to get past us, you 
would not have come to grief in this way,’ said Mr. Lee, 
who had alighted, and was approaching him. They 
shook hands, and Mr. Davenport made an ineffectual 
attempt to hobble up to the carriage, to speak to the 
ladies, but was glad to sit down again ; whereupon Aunt 
Hester and Agatha descended, and went to him. They 
insisted upon his making use of their carriage to return, 
and Mr. Lee, with the aid of Mr. Davenport’s servant 
and his own, succeeded in helping him into it, where, 
with his foot raised upon the opposite seat, he soon 
found himself suffering less pain. They stopped at 
the peasant’s cottage, and with a supply of handker- 
chiefs as bandages, and compresses wrung out from cold 
water, he was still further relieved, and they reached 
their hotel with much more comfort to Mr. Davenport’s 
sprained ankle than they could have anticipated. Mr. 
Lee insisted upon taking him to the hotel where he was 
stopping, that he might see he was well cared for ; and 
later in the evening, when the coachman returned with 
the captured horses, accompanied by Mr. Davenport’s 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


281 


servant, who had been left behind, the latter made 
the necessary transfer of the luggage. And now Mr. 
Davenport, being made much of in his helpless condition, 
rather enjoyed his sprain, which proved of a less serious 
nature than the physician at first thought. Agatha often 
read to him, to help while the hours away, as he lay upon 
the lounge, which was daily wheeled (himself upon it) 
from his sitting-room into their own. He was one 
of the family now, to all seeming intents and purposes. 
He breakfasted, he lunched, and he dined with them ; 
and as soon as his sprain allowed him to walk up and 
down the stairs he invariably accompanied them in their 
afternoon drives. It was with unmixed feelings of satis- 
faction that he found Mr. Lee consulting him in all his 
plans of travel, and more than once Agatha referred to 
him as though it were a settled thing that he should go 
with them to Naples. But when they had reached that 
city, and the days of their stay flitted by into weeks, and 
all his penetration failed to detect any warmer feeling in 
Agatha than friendship, he began to be less sanguine in 
his hopes than during the time when they had been 
thrown so constantly together ; while her sympathy for 
his sufferings had made her voice more tender in its 
tones than she was aware, and her eyes share the 
tenderness. He never alarmed Agatha by any intimation 
of his hopes that her friendship would ripen into love. 
On the contrary, he treated her in such a matter-of-fact 
brotherly way as to completely throw her off her guard. 
For the first time in her life she had a friend whom she 
was able to treat with a sisterly familiarity, and she 
found it very charming to have so devoted a brother. 
Mr. Lee and Aunt Hester already began to talk between 
themselves of the possibilities and probabilities, but 


282 


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were careful never to make any allusions before Agatha 
that might have the effect of changing her demeanour 
towards Mr. Davenport. The little world of Americans, 
in which were drifting rumours of Miss Lee’s engagement 
to a titled Englishman, looked complacently upon their 
apparent devotion ; — those who did not know Mr. Daven- 
port, declaring him to be an English earl, whom she was 
going to marry ; and those who did know him, hazarding 
the conjecture that Davenport bade fair to cut the duke 
out, for sometimes it was one title and sometimes the 
other that was bestowed upon the supposed fianc /. 

One day, when they had made the ascent of Vesuvius 
as far as the Hermitage, Mr. Lee and his sister were en- 
joying the superb view before them of the Bay of Naples, 
blue as the heavens ; the islands of Capri, Ischia, and 
Procida, steeped in golden light, or softly shaded with 
purple tints by the fleecy clouds that were sailing over 
them, the wavy outline of coast uniting every element 
of beauty that the imagination can conceive ; stretching 
from Sorrento to Cape Misenum in a crescent, glittering 
with white towns, and dotted with scattered villas. 
While they lingered long on the terrace to enjoy this 
magnificent panorama, Agatha and Mr. Davenport found 
seats within, in an open window, that looked towards 
Vesuvius. For days the volcano had been in an unusual 
state of activity, but on account of the black clouds 
that shrouded the summit from sight but little could be 
seen of its terrors and sublimities. A breeze that had 
sprung up had swept away every vestige of a cloud 
from its vicinity — the veil had been rent from the She- 
kinah, and its awful mysteries were disclosed to their 
eyes. 

As Agatha looked, it seemed to her like some gigantic 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


233 


sacrificial altar, from which the smoke of the incense 
was ascending to heaven. Now the soft white masses 
were whirled one side by the enormous puffs of thick 
black smoke that mounted straight to the skies, and 
now great flame-coloured torrents of gaseous vapours 
leapt from the crater and blended with and were lost in 
the dark ascending volumes. Between them and the 
cone sluggish streams of lava crept towards them, so 
slowly that the motion was scarcely conceivable ; and 
although the molten mass glowed through the hot cinders 
like liquid fire, the upper crust was as grey as the 
smouldering ashes of a furnace. 

Agatha, fascinated by the weird sight, sat speechless, 
motionless, her head resting against one side of the 
casement. 

Mr. Davenport’s gaze was more restless, dwelling 
longer upon Agatha’s face than upon the smoking moun- 
tain. At last he said, 

‘ Do you remember a fragment of fresco, hanging on 
the wall of one of the corridors in the Uffizzi gallery at 
Florence — near the hall of Niobe — a woman, partially 
reclining, with her eyes cast upwards ? ’ 

4 With a Cupid aiming his dart at her? Certainly, I 
remember it ; but how came you to think of that fresco 
at such a moment as this ? ’ 

‘ For the very good reason that you remind me of it. 
In fact, I thought of you when I first saw it.’ 

‘What a very common face I must have. I am 
always reminding some one either of pictures or of 
people.’ 

‘ A very picture-like face, certainly ; but by no means 
a common one. On the contrary, a very uncommon 
one. At the end of the same gallery there was a statue 


284 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


— a woman seated in a chair, with the queenliest pose of 
head I ever saw in marble. I always thought of you 
when I passed that head, although the features were not 
yours ; they were more like Mrs. Tracey’s — the ci-devant 
Mrs. Tracey. Poor creature, I heard of her death at 
Florence. Sad, was it not ? * 

A long deep quivering sigh was Agatha’s only 
answer. 

Mr. Davenport, not knowing of her strong affection 
for her friend, nor of the circumstances attending the 
death of Mrs. Mortimer, noted the sigh, and treasured it 
in his remembrance as the first token of encouragement 
that he had received. 

Just then the noise of a party dismounting reached 
them, and almost immediately people chatting and 
laughing, in tones familiar to Agatha and Mr. Daven- 
port, entered. There were seven in all — Mr. and Mrs. 
Atherton, Mrs. Arthur Grey, Miss Lennox, Mr. Clawson, 
Colonel Potten and Mr. Jenkins. Mrs. Grey wore widow’s 
weeds, but seemed withal to be in a very jolly mood. 

Significant glances were exchanged between some 
members of the party (on the sly, of course) as Agatha and 
Mr. Davenport were discovered in the window seat. It 
was a very merry company that took luncheon together 
that day in the Hermitage ; for at the request of Mr. 
and Mrs. Atherton, Mr. Lee’s party joined their own, 
the servants of each having brought with them hampers 
filled with viands, and wines that would have tempted the 
appetites of those less hungry than invariably are the 
toilers up Vesuvius. 

When they came to take their chairs at the table, 
Mr. Jenkins said, 4 Miss Lee, you ought to be seated 
between Colonel Potten and myself ; and Mrs. Atherton 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


285 


must be on the other side of me. That was the arrange- 
ment at the last dinner-party we were at together. Now, 
I ask you, is it not remarkable that six of us who were 
at that dinner should take our luncheon together on 
Vesuvius ? 1 

4 No more remarkable than things that are constantly 
happening/ answered Agatha. 4 1 often say that real 
life has far more in the way of singular coincidences and 
romance than any novel of the present school/ 

She took the seat assigned to her by Mrs. Atherton, 
which brought her where Mr. Jenkins had proposed 
she should sit ; and as Mr. Davenport was at the other 
end of the table, Mr. Jenkins found an opportunity, be- 
fore the luncheon was ended, to quiz her a little about 
him. 

4 1 am divided in opinion as to which of your suitors 
is the lucky man/ he said. 4 Rumour says that you have 
forgotten all the grievances that we have received at the 
hands of England during our late war, and are going to 
confer upon one of her sons the prize for which so many 
of our own countrymen have sued in vain; but if ap- 
pearances are not very deceitful, I should say you had 
thought better of the rash act/ 

‘Appearances are very deceitful/ replied Agatha ; 
4 and rumour almost invariably in the wrong. I long 
since made up my mind that I would remain a spinster/ 

4 Just what others have done before you, who in the 
end used their woman’s privilege of changing their 
minds/ said Mr. Jenkins. 

4 You will find that I am not like other women, for 
I shall never marry/ persisted Agatha. 

4 I have heard that same assertion from lips that it 
was also my privilege to hear pronounce audibly the 


286 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


marriage vow before a twelvemonth had rolled around. 
With your permission, I will record it for future reference/ 
and Mr. Jenkins drew out his note-book, and wrote under 
that day’s date “ Miss Agatha Lee has decided that she 
will never marry.” ’ 

‘ What are you writing in your note-book ? * said Miss 
Lennox from across the table. 

4 1 am writing down Miss Agatha Lee’s solemn 
assurance that she will never marry ; in order that I 
may have the pleasure of showing it to her husband 
some day.’ 

‘I think Mr. Jenkins will not have to go far, nor wait 
long,’ she said sot to voce to Colonel Potten, who smiled 
rather grimly in reply. 

The next steamer to the United States took out 
letters from various members of the Atherton party, 
confirming the rumours that had already crossed that 
Agatha Lee would soon be married to Ormus Daven- 
port, who, it was said, had inherited a title with his 
English property ; and this report reaching the ears of 
Carroll Tracey, he sat down and wrote a few lines to 
her as follows : 

‘ I hear it authentically stated that you will soon be 
Lady Davenport. I do not believe it. You will not 
give yourself to anyone who does not possess your soul, 
and that is already mine. You cannot build up such a 
wall — the only wall of separation that ever could come 
between us. I know it is not so, and yet only the 
thought causes me to shiver, and sends the blood boil- 
ing through my veins.’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


287 


CHAPTER IV. 

A few days after the unexpected meeting on Vesuvius, 
Mr. Lee’s party joined Mr. Atherton’s on an excursion 
to Pompeii. The day proved equally favourable, but 
with the waning of the full moon Vesuvius had grown 
sullen, no longer sending up volumes of incense to the 
skies, nor pouring down its sides the fiery torrents which 
had contributed such weird sublimity to the scene. Its 
thunderings had subsided, first into more and more 
distant mutterings, and then ceased entirely ; so that 
they were able to explore the long-buried city without 
any fears of a catastrophe similar to the one that had 
swept the lovely town out of existence nearly two 
thousand years before. For hours they wandered through 
the principal streets, visiting all the houses of note, 
where fragments of beautiful frescoes and mosaics pro- 
claimed the refined tastes of their owners as well as the 
skill of their artisans. They traversed the ruins of 
majestic temples, basilicas, forums, theatres, baths, and 
arches of triumph, Agatha wishing for solitude, that 
she might the better enjoy the mazes of thought into 
which these scenes carried her mind. 

By special permission they lunched in the beautiful 
‘ House of the Faun,’ and fully imbued with the spirit of 
the place each represented for the time, some character 


288 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


associated with Pompeii, either by history, romance, or 
legend. 

So well they sustained their parts, with mantles and 
shawls draped as tunicas, stolas, and togas, that much 
amusement was afforded by Mrs. Atherton’s happy 
thought, she having been the one to propose the per- 
sonifications. 

* Now that we have ended this child’s play,’ said 
Mr. Lee, unpinning the napkin which his daughter 
had playfully fastened so as to fall in classical folds 
around his head, ‘ and I am no longer Sallust, but a man 
in a monkey jacket and trousers, what is next expected 
of me ? Possibly the next suggestion may be for a 
sacrifice, and I shall be called upon to officiate as a high- 
priest — or a victim. Which is it to be, priestess Eumachia? ’ 
Before Agatha could answer, Colonel Potten said, 

‘ One who has had so many sacrifices offered up to 
her, surely will not demand more.’ 

i Listen to Glaucus! Young man, I advise you to go 
home,’ said Mr. Jenkins, removing from his head a gar- 
land of green rushes he had worn in his character of a 
gladiator. I advise you, in the most disinterested way, 
to escape to your domicile, or you will be dragged before 
the civil tribunal for the crime of making love to a 
priestess. Fly ! the magistrates are on the alert ! 
Remember the fate of Publius Amitistius ! It is high 
sacrilege to make love to the priestess Eumachia. 
Besides, there is no hope for you ; has she not recorded 
a vow that she will never marry? Diomede, may I 
take the liberty of asking you to help me on with my 
overcoat ? ’ 

Mr. Clawson, thus called upon, officiated as a valet so 
satisfactorily as to receive the encouraging assurance that 
he was born for one. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


289 


As the sun declined, a cool breeze came up from 
the sea ; and, as determined upon previously, they all 
walked back to the Temple of Jupiter, to obtain another 
glimpse of the unparalleled view it commands illu- 
mined by those magic hues which the setting sun 
throws over mountains and ruins alike in Italy, steeping 
the sea even in shades of ruby, gold, and violet. Here 
they lingered until the sun went down, and then, hurry- 
ing across the Forum, past the Temples of Mercury 
and Venus, and around by the grand Basilica, they came 
to Porta della Marina, where their carriages were waiting. 
Before separating, they arranged to meet the following 
morning at the little building in the grounds of the Villa 
Reale, called Pompeiorama, from the dioramic views 
which it contains of Pompeii, as it now is and as it was in 
the days of the past, even to delineations of the sports 
of the gladiators, of the solemn sacrifices, of bridal feasts, 
and of its last days, when Vesuvius poured over all 
terrible torrents of ashes and fire. It was here that they 
realised as never before what the ill-fated city had once 
been, when ornamented with treasures of art in bronze, 
and marble, and fresco, and peopled with beautiful 
women and kingly men, whose gay flowing robes made 
every group a picture worthy of being transferred to 
canvas. Streets spanned by triumphal arches, fountains 
everywhere gushing into mosaic basins or marble cis- 
terns, forums spreading wide their areas, lined with 
gaily painted corridors, and paved with coloured marbles ; 
temples of exquisite proportions, embellished with an art 
that defies competition after the lapse of centuries ; and 
private houses, small though they be, decorated with a 
graceful elegance that has never since been attained, 
even in the dwellings of kings. All this, and more than 
U 


290 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


can be described, representing the customs and habits of 
the people of Pompeii, and the enchanting views that 
surrounded the city, did they find within the walls of the 
building in the National Garden of Naples ; and as they 
went away from it, all were enthusiastic over the 
pleasure they had received, excepting Mr. Davenport. 
He walked silently by the side of Agatha, Colonel Potten 
having appropriated to himself the other side. Aunt 
Hester, Mrs. Grey, and Miss Lennox, accompanied by 
Mr. Lee, Mr. Clawson, and Mr. Atherton, crossed the 
grounds for a better view of the bay, which was a little 
turbulent in the equinoctial gale that had been blowing. 
Mrs. Atherton and Mr. Jenkins were sauntering slowly 
in the rear. 

4 Colonel Potten, you are wanted/ called Miss Lennox. 
4 Pray come and enlighten us as to whether that vessel 
coming into the harbour is a man-of-war.’ As he 
approached she lowered her voice. 4 This is only a little 
ruse of mine in behalf of Mr. Davenport/ 

4 1 was just fancying myself de trop , and I thank you 
for your consideration/ he answered. 

4 My consideration for myself? ’ asked Miss Lennox, 
laughing. 4 1 assure you that, with all my philanthropy? 
I am not quite sure I would have exerted myself in 
their behalf only that I felt in the mood of talking to 
you. I want you to tell me what the relationship is 
between Mr. Clawson and the Athertons.’ 

4 1 think he is a cousin of Mr. Atherton/ 

4 1 wonder whether he is blind to Mr. Jenkins’s devo- 
tion. Really, although it is none of my business, I do 
wish Mr. Clawson and he would go their own way/ 

4 Nonsense ; there is nothing wrong about that little 
woman. She knows what she is about, and is quite able 
to take care of herself.’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


291 


* I am not so sure of that. She has a wretchedly 
unhappy look — unsatisfied, as if she had found out too 
late that her husband’s greatest attraction was his money.’ 

‘ Why, she knew that before she married — she married 
him with her eyes open. Yet I have heard it was her 
mother who persuaded her. What strange beings mothers 
are — ambitious ones, I mean. They think no more of 
selling a daughter than a man would think of selling a 
bale of cotton.’ 

‘ You are right ; and when I see how daughters are 
sacrificed, it helps to reconcile me to having lost my 
mother when I was too young to know her worth. 
Possibly, had she lived, I might have been an unhappy 
wife this very moment, who knows ? ’ 

* You have suggested a new idea to me, Miss Lennox. 
Without doubt, a girl who has no mother is more likely 
to marry for love than one who has. Take Miss Lee for 
instance, as well as yourself. Everyone knows that you 
have both had no end of admirers ; and yet, as far as I 
know, neither of you has ever thought of marriage.’ 

‘ I most certainly never have, for the excellent reason 
that I once heard given by another — those whom I would 
have had did not want me, and those who wanted me 
the old Nick himself would not have taken. But with 
Agatha it is different. She has had many eligible 
offers, but never yet fallen in love, I fancy, from all that 
I have heard her say.’ 

‘ I do not believe she ever will “ fall in love ; ” if she 
waits for that, I am sure she will never marry.’ 

‘ And I am equally sure that unless she does she will 
always remain single. I daresay you think, Colonel 
Potten, that she has passed the age when girls fall in love ; 
but I once read that the love of youth, when compared with 


292 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


the love of maturer years, is in strength like the froth 
on the champagne to the wine itself, and I believe it.’ 

‘ Oh no, it is not that I think her too old, by any 
means ; but that she has formed too high an ideal 
to have any chance of coming across him in this 
world. I feel quite sure it will be an affair of reason 
more than of sentiment with her. She is evidently 
giving Mr. Davenport every opportunity to plead his 
suit, for I do not agree with Clawson in thinking him 
an accepted lover.' 

‘Without doubt he is in love with her , I should say; 
but I agree with you in your opinion. He is not yet 
certain of his prize, but he would be a good match for 
her in every way.’ 

‘ I should not be surprised to hear the engagement 
announced at any time. Nevertheless, I should main- 
tain my opinion, that it would not be a love match 
as far as she is concerned ; but I daresay, if Davenport 
succeeds, he will be very well contented, even on such 
terms, for I am quite sure she would not accept him 
without telling him just what her feelings are. 

Miss Lennox shook her head. ‘ Agatha Lee will never 
marry any man whom she does not love — no, no sooner 
than I would. A woman who truly loves, if she be true 
to her instincts, could give herself to the man of her 
choice, and regret that she had no more to give him; 
while nothing would tempt her to marry one whom she 
did not love. 

Colonel Potten, looking in Miss Lennox’s face, thought 
her wonderfully sensible ; and more than that, he thought 
her charming, when upon their eyes meeting he saw in 
them a softer light than he had ever seen before, and a 
warm flush spreading over her face. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


293 


She continued. 4 Mr. Davenport will never win her, 
and he is by far too fine a man to be jilted ; not that I 
think Agatha would intentionally deceive him, and lead 
him on, but her head is so full of Platonic affection that 
she never suspects any tenderer sentiments in a man, 
until he declares his love. Mrs. Grey, now, would adore 
him upon the slightest provocation/ 

4 Mrs. Grey has a way of adoring every handsome 
man she meets, has she not ? What a fortunate thing 
for her that her husband died. Mr. Mortimer’s return 
to America, after his wife’s death, must have been a great 
disappointment.’ 

4 How dreadful ! I did not think you could be so un- 
charitable. Mrs. Grey is no favourite of yours, I see. 
I thought you, in common with other men, liked best 
those women who are a little leghes. 

4 For amusement, yes ; for wives, no.’ 

4 1 do assure you that you have formed a wrong idea 
of Mrs. Grey. She is thoughtless — a little giddy per- 
haps, fond of admiration, and this comprises her list 
of faults. She is very kind-hearted, very amiable. I 
have never heard her say an ill-natured word of anyone 
in my life.’ 

4 That is saying a great deal, and such a quality 
should cover a multitude of sins. Still, a man appreciates 
fidelity in a woman more than all other virtues combined, 
I believe ; and a fickle, frivolous creature, like Mrs. 
Grey, possesses no attractions for me.’ 

4 A prejudice is as hard to combat in a man as to 
overcome a fascination. We all have our aversions and our 
predilections ; there is no accounting for them. Are you 
a believer in affinities and in Platonic love, Colonel 
Potten ? * 


294 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


‘If you mean by affinities some persons being more 
congenial to you than others, I am a believer, as who is not? 
but I detest the humbug in the word, since it has been 
used by so many, as a cloak for all sorts of conjugal in- 
fidelities in the spirit if not in the letter. As for Platonic 
love, I do not believe in its existence. Some women 
may be capable of a cool and wise affection for a man, 
but it should be called friendship ; and you may rest 
assured, that, in nine cases out of ten, where there is 
such a feeling, it will ripen into love.’ 

‘ That is what men always say ; yet here is Miss Lee, 
who has had many friendships, and I have never heard 
that any of them ever ripened into love. One of my 
best friends is a married man, and my affection for him 
is so well reciprocated that his wife calls me her suc- 
cessor/ 

‘ Bravo ! you are coming round upon my side. I 
think such friendships admirably suited to fit a woman 
to become a successor / 

‘ But I do assure you, if he were single, and the only 
man in the world, I would not marry him ; and he 
knows me entirely too well to wish to marry me/ 

Which speech caused Colonel Potten to laugh not 
a little at her. 

When they reached the hotel, Miss Lennox followed 
Agatha to her room, and in course of conversation re- 
peated what Colonel Potten had said about friendship 
ripening into love. ‘ Is it not vexatious/ she added, ‘ that 
men are always ready to suspect women of a warmer 
feeling if they are sufficiently interested in them to feel 
friendship ? I maintain there can be no such thing 
as the budding of friendship into love ; for it is either 
the one or the other from the first inception of the feel- 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


295 


in g ; or, to carry out the simile, a budding friendship 
matures into the flower of friendship. You never hear 
of falling into friendship ; but to be really in love, you 
not only fall into it, but you plunge in, head over ears, 
according to my ideas/ 

Agatha was silent 

4 1 am sure you agree with me,’ said Miss Lennox. 

Checking the impulse she felt to disclose to her friend 
the radical change that her views upon this subject had 
experienced, she replied, 

^ It is very easy to form theories, and to indulge in 
speculations ; but I remember a line in an old copy- 
book, “ Experience is the best schoolmaster.” I think 
Colonel Potten partly right and partly wrong — wrong, 
inasmuch as he says that in nine cases out of ten friend- 
ship will ripen into love, whereas I think it must be the 
rarest thing in the world to do so ; yet, just because of 
the bare possibility, I am no longer an advocate of 
Platonic affection.’ 

‘ But what harm if friendship does ripen into love ? I 
would cling to my flag, if I were you. In my opinion, 
it only goes to prove that men are made of baser clay 
than women, when they doubt the possibility of a strong 
friendship existing between them. But even if it does 
often develop into a warmer sentiment, I would never 
cease to advocate such friendships. I think the friend- 
ship of a noble man throws a charm around life that no 
woman’s friendship can confer. Now, I ask you, what 
harm could possibly result where two who had fan- 
cied themselves to be nothing more than friends should 
suddenly awaken to the consciousness that they were 
lovers ! Getting married is not such an awful cata- 
strophe as to deter me from indulging in what Colonel 


290 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


Potten calls “ the calm, cold, wise, sentiment,” for fear of 
the result.’ 

* But if one, or both, were already married, what 
then ? ’ asked Agatha. 

‘ That would be quite impossible, according to my 
ideas. No good married woman, nor man, could ever feel 
an affection that would conflict with their duties, I am 
sure.’ 

‘ But supposing they had married without really 
loving each other, and supposing one of them should find 
the object of a friendship daily becoming dearer, until 
the world seemed empty without the presence of that 
one, would it not be dangerous to indulge in such a 
friendship under the cloak of Platonic love ? This is 
what Colonel Potten means, and I fully agree with him 
in denouncing it as a humbug.’ 

‘ But the existence of counterfeit coin does not prove 
that there are no gold coins. I do not lose my faith in 
gold because there is a baser metal. No, call it by 
whatever name you will — friendship, affection, Platonic 
love — there is nothing in life so desirable until a woman 
marries and has a husband and children to fill her heart, 
and engross all her thoughts ; and I am not going to re- 
nounce my discipleship, although the apostle of Platon- 
ism retracts and calls her former belief heresy.’ 

Agatha smiled, and after a moment’s meditation said, 

4 Now, I am going to suppose a case to you. I have 
often heard you say that you are devoted to the husband 
of one of your friends, and that he is quite as fond of 
you. If some day you should find that your friend’s 
husband had been struggling with a warmer affection 
for you than he had ever betrayed, and that this know- 
ledge should kindle in your heart a flame, which * 


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297 


‘ Stop ! } said Miss Lennox, ‘ you are supposing a 
sheer impossibility. I am not going to be caught in 
that way, although, argumentum ad hominum , I might 
infer that you had. If any married man ever dared to 
breathe a sentiment to me, the knowledge of which 
would even so much as grieve his wife, no matter how 
much I might have liked him, I should lose all respect 
for him from that moment. I should say to him, “ A 
man who is incapable of loyalty to his wife is also in- 
capable of loyalty to a friend, and I shall never again 
consider you my friend.” ’ 

‘ I quite agree with you, that that is the right way to 
feel ; but I do not think anyone knows exactly how one 
would feel, or what one would say, under such circum- 
stances, until the experience comes. Of course you 
would say it, as you feel now ; but under other circum- 
stances, you might not only be unable to say it, but un- 
able to feel it also.' 

‘ I would say it whether I felt it or not. I cannot 
conceive anything so humiliating as for a woman to feel 
a sinful love. I should die with the shame of it, if it 
were possible for me to feel such a love/ 

* This is exactly the point that I wished to arrive at. 
Would any love that came to you unsought, be a sinful 
love if not yielded to — if struggled against ? Once I 
would have called it so, but since I have known more of 
human nature I have changed my ideas. Have you 
ever read a book called “ On the Heights ” ? * 

‘ I tried to read it, but it was too much on the heights 
for me to finish it. It was so sickly in its sentimentalism 
that I was disgusted with it.’ 

4 Sickly ? why I have read it over and over, find- 
ing nothing but the most healthy sentiments ex- 


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pressed If you had followed the poor penitent to the 
heights where her atonement was made, you could not 
have failed to appreciate her purity of character. I once 
laid down the book before finishing it with the same 
feeling that you express ; but ’ 

‘ I read quite far enough to discover her character/ 
interposed Miss Lennox. ‘ I did not throw the book 
down until after she had become the King’s mistress/ 

‘The King’s mistress ! ’ echoed Agatha. ‘ Can it be 
possible that for one moment you imagined such a thing? 
What an injustice to the Countess Irma ! I cannot 
conceive how any woman could so wrong another.’ 

‘ Nor can I conceive how a woman possessing common 
sense could ever read that book and not see that it is 
so. Why, the plot turns upon that circumstance. If, 
as you think, she maintained her innocence, why did 
she suffer such remorse of conscience as followed her 
treachery to her friend ? ’ 

‘It was that for which she suffered remorse. Do 
you suppose that a woman who was capable of sus- 
taining such relations to the King as you suggest 
would have been capable of feeling any remorse for 
it afterwards ? — would have flown from her lover as 
she fled, obdurate to all his entreaties that she would 
return ? No, believe me, only a good, pure woman 
suffers as she suffered, from the knowledge that she 
had been the means of causing the husband of her 
friend to waver in his allegiance towards his wife — that 
she herself had been guilty of indulging in a sentiment 
rendered unholy because of other ties and other claims. 
Do you not remember her answer, when her brother 
applied to her for her interest in his behalf, intimating 
how great her influence was with the King, and what 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


299 


the little world of the Court thought of it ? I do not 
think Caesar’s reply, “ And thou too , Brutus ?' surpassed 
it for pathos. How could you so have wronged the 
noble-hearted woman ? ’ 

‘ I do not see anything noble in a woman who permits 
a married man to kiss her, and is exalted into a heaven 
of bliss by the touch of lips that should have stung her 
into shame. I daresay I have very homely, matter-of- 
fact ideas ; but I confess that I think the rude Walpurga 
had a nobler heart than the titled lady.’ 

* Walpurga was well enough in her way — a good 
honest woman with not even the shadow of a temptation 
to combat ; but had you read the book critically, you 
would have discovered a deeper meaning in it than you 
seem to have found, and in proportion as Irma’s charac- 
ter must have been exalted, that of Walpurga might 
have fallen. The love-making of the coarse valet had no 
temptation for the honest soul whose heart was with her 
husband and her child. Had Walpurga loved the valet, 
and yet never listened to one tender word from his lips, 
then she would have been the superior of the Countess, who 
for a few brief days stood dizzy upon the edge of the 
vortex of the King’s passion for her, and had not strength 
to turn away. That she did at last escape from it with- 
out being engulphed, that she resisted the letters he 
wrote, madly pleading for her return, that she devoted 
her life to the penance of isolation from the world, 
proved her innocence and her worth.’ 

‘ Well, you may think so; but I still think it would have 
been better proven if, when the King first pressed her 
hand, she had given him a look that would have prevented 
him from pressing it again ; and when he kissed her, either 
have threatened to tell his wife, or else have given up her 


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ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


situation at Court. But, dear me/ rising to leave, { I am 
sure Mr. Davenport is waiting for you ; he is a great 
monopolist, and looked terribly bored to-day at the 
prospect of another excursion in force, when we arranged 
for Baiae to-morrow. He would prefer to visit all these 
places with you alone, I know.’ 

‘ Do not get such an idea in your head. Mr. Daven- 
port is no more to me than Colonel Potten is to you. I 
think, Laura, we may congratulate ourselves upon having 
secured two genuine friends at last, without any nonsense 
about them, don’t you ? ’ 

6 As far as Colonel Potten is concerned, I am quite 
sure of him. I cannot say as much of Mr. Davenport. If I 
were you, I would not place too great reliance upon his 
friendship, for I think there is very little of the “ calm, 
cold, wise sentiment ” in his feeling for you.’ 

* Absurd ! He has been with us so long that we are 
really quite on brotherly and sisterly terms, and he 
would laugh at the idea of any other sentiment as soon 
as I would.’ 

Miss Lennox looked back over her shoulder at 
Agatha as she left the room. 

4 Take my advice, dear ; don’t trust your brother/ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


301 


CHAPTER V. 

The day following, appointed for the excursion to Baiae, 
proved to be as heavenly as the preceding ones. Mr. 
Clawson, receiving a large supply of letters and journals 
from his banker that morning, concluded he would 
remain behind to read them, and the party set off at an 
early hour without him, for Mr. Clawson had a weakness 
for the latest news, and was always well posted concern- 
ing all that was going on. 

‘ These excursions are too much for Mr. Clawson/ 
said Mr. Jenkins, who with Colonel Potten was seated in 
the carriage vis-a-vis to Mrs. Atherton and Miss Lennox. 
‘You know at home he is never visible before one o’clock 
post meridian, on ordinary occasions/ 

‘I should, survive if he were never yisible/ replied 
Miss Lennox. 

‘You are awfully severe upon Clawson lately; has 
the man been making love to you ? ’ 

‘ He is too much in love with himself to make love 
to anyone. I am heartily glad he has stayed at home for 
several reasons.’ 

‘ Pray tell us the reasons/ said Mrs. Atherton. • 

‘ He eats more than his share of mandarins, that 
is the principal reason ; and then, as we are going to take 
a sail out from Baise to the coral reefs, all our pleasure 
might be destroyed because he is so afraid of the water/ 


302 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


‘ Really, is Mr Clawson afraid of the water ? * 

1 He is so afraid of it that he never touches it to 
drink.’ 

Mr. Jenkins shook his head sagely, looking very 
demure, as if perplexed over some question that had 
arisen in his mind. At last he said, 

‘ Potten, this looks suspicious. I have always heard 
that when a woman begins by abusing a man, she ends 
by marrying him. I shall make a note of this/ 

* As you did the other day about Agatha Lee and 
Mr. Davenport. How is it that all men think women, 
after they have reached a certain age, are so desirous of 
marrying that they will take anyone who offers ? Make 
your note, Mr. Jenkins ; it will serve as a reminder of the 
mistake you have made, in judging of matters that you 
know nothing about. A woman who marries for any 
other reason than love had better take poison as the 
quickest way of ending her sufferings.’ 

'I don’t agree with you,’ said Mr. Jenkins. 'She 
had much better make the best of it, and get all she can 
out of life.’ 

At this moment Miss Lennox, recalled to remem- 
brance by the expression upon Mrs. Atherton’s face, as 
she and Mr. Jenkins exchanged a glance, changed the 
conversation. 

It was a charming drive to the Temple of Serapis, 
where, while taking their breakfast, as is the custom with 
excursionists, a carriage drove up, and Mr. Clawson 
arrived in time to get his share of the mandarins. He 
had a budget of news. Mr. Marston, who had all his 
life been so fastidious in his choice of a wife, that no 
woman, who had even fancied herself in love but once 
in her life, could have tempted him to offer at her 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


303 


shrine his immaculate affections, was engaged to Mrs. 
Barlow. 

‘ How men do get taken in ! That woman is not only 
a widow, but she has had no end of affairs/ he said, 
addressing Agatha, who had not a word to say in her 
defence. Mr. Clawson continued, ‘There are lots of 
engagements announced, and no end of people, whom 
we all know, coming over ; among others, Carroll Tracey. 
A queer feeling he must have when he meets Mortimer. 
I beg your pardon, Miss Lee, I quite forgot Frank 
Mortimer was your cousin.’ 

Agatha’s face had reddened at the first mention of 
Carroll Tracey ; and Mr. Davenport, always on the alert, 
now hastened to withdraw attention from her by telling 
an experience of Mr. Clawson’s at a dinner where he 
had been called upon to make a speech in French. It 
was one of Mr. Clawson’s weaknesses not to admit that 
he was not equally at home in the French language as in 
his mother tongue ; and he never lost an opportunity 
for airing the little that he knew. That his doing so was 
a source of amusement to his companions never in the 
least disconqgrted him ; and now he confirmed Mr. 
Davenport’sT^iccount, insisting that he had done both 
himself and his country justice. 

‘ I wish you would repeat the speech ; I would like 
to hear it above all things,’ said one. 

‘ Do tell us what you said,’ said another. All were 
vociferous for the speech. 

‘ Certainly, I will tell you what I can remember of it. 
I commenced by expressing my great regret that my 
limited knowledge of ’ 

‘ Oh, but tell us in French, not in English,’ said Miss 
Lennox. ‘We all want to hear the original French, 
don’t we, Mr. Jenkins ? ’ 


304 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


‘ Certainly we do. I am sure that all the point would 
be lost in translating it. By all means, we must hear it 
in French.’ 

* You should have been at the dinner, then. I am 
sorry that you have lost the opportunity, but I never 
address an audience in any language but its own. Some 
one of the number might not understand the French 
language, you know, and find it trh-emb arras sant .’ 

Attention having been diverted from Agatha, and 
time given her to recover, Mr. Davenport now seconded 
Mr. Lee’s efforts to get them all started on their tour of 
sight-seeing. After a slight survey of the ruins of the 
Temples of Neptune and of the Nymphs, of the site of 
Cicero’s villa, and the Amphitheatre, they turned aside to 
visit the half- extinct volcano of Solfatara, Lake Avernus, 
and the grotto of the Sibyl ; then proceeded to Baiae, 
or rather to the site of that town, once so celebrated for 
its superb temples and magnificent palaces and villas, 
as well as for its wanton reign of luxury and profligacy 
in the days when as a Roman watering-place it had no 
equal. Now, even as then, one might well say, ‘ Nothing 
in the world can be compared with the lovely Bay of 
Baiae,’ though of all its costly splendour there remains 
only the desolate ruins of temples, baths, and theatres ; 
endless masses of ancient, crumbling masonry, frag- 
ments of mosaic, traces of vast piers, and innumerable 
vaulted passages. The rare beauty of the day tempted 
them to prolong the sail which they took out to the coral 
reefs. Only for the ripples in the water that the oars 
made, they would have seemed to float 4 upon a plane of 
light between two heavens of azure.’ Miss Lennox 
quoted Shelley, and compared Capri and Ischia to huge 
vaporous amethysts quivering through the aerial gold 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


305 


that flooded nature. Agatha sat speechless, her dreamy 
eyes taking in all the exquisite beauty of the scene, 
although her mind was far away. All were more or less 
impressed and subdued by the indescribable beauty that 
surrounded them, so that all jesting subsided, and even 
their low laughter died away. 

Mr. Jennings began to feel the stillness oppressive. 

‘ If this weird silence continues, I cannot answer for 
the consequences,’ he said. ‘ I feel a desperate inclination 
to make love to some one. I am sure Clawson will end 
by proposing to Miss Lennox, whom he is eyeing so 
sentimentally.’ 

‘ I would if I had a show of encouragement, but 
Miss Lennox always frowns down all my efforts to make 
myself agreeable. Potten, supposing you try your luck ; 
you may succeed better.’ 

Glancing at Miss Lennox, Colonel Potten saw her 
cheeks suffused with colour. Her usual presence d' esprit 
seemed to have forsaken her. 

‘ I might have done so long since had not Miss 
Lennox once told me that she never would marry a 
widower,’ he said boldly ; and Miss Lennox, suddenly 
recovering her self-possession, exclaimed, 

‘ What a fib ! I never said such a thing in my life. I 
have a weakness for widowers.’ 

Everyone laughed, but of course understood it as 
the jest was intended to be understood. Colonel Potten 
did not forget it, however; once or twice after this he 
found himself comparing Miss Lennox with Agatha, and 
always in favour of the former. He recalled an adage 
that his mother had often quoted to him in his youth : 
4 Fine sense and exalted sense is very well in its way, but 
sound common sense is much better.’ The current of his 


306 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


mind, once set in this channel, he permitted it to beaf 
him on, to the resolving of all the 4 pros, and cons.’ of 
such a project ; and that very evening, after musing 
over it in his room at the hotel, he finally arose from the 
arm-chair in which he had been enjoying his reverie, and 
pacing the floor indulged in this soliloquy : — 

4 The more I see of her, the better I like her. She is 
most excellent company — no blue devils where she is. 
She is not erratic in any of her views, nor is she senti- 
mental. If I am but lucky enough to win her heart, 
and I have sometimes fancied that I might win it, I 
know well that she would make a good wife. And then, 
she has a fortune in her own right, and it will not be a 
bad thing to put our money together. I believe she is 
the very one for me.’ 

After that evening, Colonel Potten’s attentions to Miss 
Lennox were such as to leave no one in doubt as to 
their nature ; excepting Miss Lennox herself, who was 
the last to become enlightened. 

From Naples they all went to Sorrento, settling down 
in that most homelike of pensions, Villa Nardi. 

It was here that, as Colonel Potten and Miss Lennox 
were strolling along the cliffs one morning, under the 
boughs of the orange-groves, he said, 

4 Do you remember once classifying your lovers under 
two heads — those whom you would not have, and those 
who would not have you ? Are you going to number 
me in the first category ? ’ 

Miss Lennox looked a little confused as she answered, 
4 No, for you are on my list of friends.’ 

4 But what if I want to be more than a friend ; how 
then ? I am not going to make love to you like a school- 
boy, Miss Lennox ; but I do assure you that if you will 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


307 


confer upon me the happiness that it will give me to 
make you my wife, I will in return make you as happy 
as I can ; and I feel that I can make you very happy.’ 

They were standing by the low parapet, and Miss 
Lennox was looking down to the foot of the precipice 
where the dappled aquamarine and emerald waters of the 
bay were breaking in whispered murmurs against the 
rocks. For a few moments she was too much agitated 
to answer. This was not the love-making she had 
dreamed of in bygone days, nor was it such as her riper 
years still longed for ; but the man who stood beside 
her was the only one whom she had ever loved, and she 
could not hear with indifference any words that came 
from his lips. Her hesitation was not unremarked by 
Colonel Potten, neither did he fail to see the agitation 
which caused her bosom to swell, and a tremulous sigh 
to escape her. He took the hand that rested upon the 
parapet. 

* Will you not give me this little hand for my own, 
and with it the treasure that I covet — the heart of the 
dearest and best and loveliest woman that I know ? ’ 

She felt the magnetism of his touch, and, looking 
straight into his eyes, she answered, 

‘ This seems like a dream to me, but even though it 
be a dream, I still like to say to you that you can 
have the hand if you care for it, nor am I ashamed to 
tell you now that I gave you the heart long, long 
before you asked for it.’ 

As she spoke her face glowed with the happiness 
within, and Colonel Potten was more than contented— he 
was happy. He drew the hand that now belonged to 
him within his arm, and, pacing up and down the shaded 
alleys of the orange grove, he drew from her the confes- 


308 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


sion that, during all these years, in which no thought but 
of friendship for her had come to him, she had held in 
her heart the love which he had awakened in her girl- 
hood, concealing it so carefully that he had never 
dreamed that it was there. He asked question after 
question, eager to hear all of this new revelation, which 
was to him the sweetest balm that his vanity had ever 
received. 

In justice to him it must be said that, however much 
reason might have influenced him in making his decision, 
or self-interest have assisted that decision to its culmin- 
ating point, as each day passed away his betrothed took 
more complete possession of his heart, until he was as 
much in love as her most exacting moods could have 
demanded. 

‘ Fate has done better for Colonel Potten than he would 
have done for himself,’ said Mr. Lee one day to Agatha. 

‘ In what respect ? ’ she asked. 

‘ I fancy he once thought he would like to marry my 
cold-hearted daughter ; and I think Miss Lennox much 
better adapted to making a mortal happy than one who 
lives in the clouds and will never stoop to any being 
short of a demi-god. I know a man who has an honest, 
sincere love for you ; whom, as you must marry some 
day, my daughter, it would make me very happy to see 
you united to, but I have not dared to give him any 
encouragement further than to let him know that he has 
my consent to address you.’ 

‘Papa, how could you?’ said Agatha. ‘You must 
not think of such a thing. It is out of the question ; 
and the sooner that he understands that it is so, the 
better it will be for all of us. I do not wish to lose him 
as a friend, it is true ; but to retain him at the price of 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


309 


having him for a lover is quite impossible. That would 
be terrible. , 

‘ I do not see anything so very terrible in it. On the 
contrary, I have already told him that he has my best 
wishes for his success/ 

‘How can you be so cruel? And I think it very 
unkind in Mr. Davenport to enlist you in his behalf. 
But it will do no good, for I will never marry/ 

‘You may be quite sure that I shall permit you to 
make your own choice ; but if you ask your Aunt Hester’s 
advice, she will tell you that a life of single blessedness 
is a lonely life/ 

‘ And I am sure Aunt Hester would tell me that 
loneliness is better to bear than married life where love 
is wanting on either side/ 

‘ Mr. Davenport has enough to make any reasonable 
woman happy ; he really is very fond of you, and he 
will have some day a position in England that I should 
be proud to see you share. Do nothing in haste, my 
child I feel quite sure that he is a man whom you 
could learn to love/ 

‘ I have never believed in learning to love,’ replied 
Agatha. ‘ It pains me to go contrary to your wishes in 
anything ; but now that I know what Mr. Davenport’s 
wishes are, I must make haste to show him that 
friendship is all that I have, or ever will have, to give 
him.’ 

The same evening, Aunt Hester opened the subject, 
and Agatha listened to all that her aunt had to say, 
and she had a great deal ; w r axing eloquent concerning 
Mr. Davenport’s personal attractions, as well as the 
advantages that would accrue to her from such an 
alliance. After her aunt had finished, Agatha said, 


310 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


‘ “ And Satan took Him up into a mountain, and said, 
All these things shall be thine, if thou wilt fall down 
and worship me.” ’ 

‘ Is it kind, Agatha, when your father and I only have 
your happiness and interest at heart, to take such a 
view of our motives ? I feel sure that you would be a far 
happier woman as Mr. Davenports wife than you will 
be if you persist in your resolution never to marry. 
You do not know the weary length of the road that lies 
before you when you assert such a determination. If 
Mr. Davenport were an unlovable man, I would never 
urge you to marry him as I do now/ 

‘ If he were ever so lovable, and had not a magnifi- 
cent home to give me, do you think that you and my 
father would be as anxious that I should accept him ? 
Why, Aunt Hester, how can papa, most of all, how can 
you, try to tempt me to give myself, soul and body, 
into the keeping of a man for whom I have not the 
love that makes marriage the holy covenant that it is, 
when two are united who are all the world to each other ? 
I am not devoid of ambition, and it is possible that at 
one time in my life I might have been dazzled by all 
that Mr. Davenport has to offer me, that I might have 
beguiled myself into thinking the regard that I feel 
for him might grow into an affection sufficiently 
strong to secure happiness to both of us in marriage, 
but I know better now. My whole heart is given to 
another, to whom I hope to belong in another world, 
though never in this.’ 

i Nonsense. Don’t talk in that way. There is neither 
marrying nor giving in marriage in another world ; and 
although when one is lifted up from earth by that exalt- 
ation which strong feeling gives to the soul, one may 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


311 


talk of such impossibilities — it all ends in talk. If you 
are so unfortunate as to feel such sentiments for one who 
is already married, the best thing you can do is to dis- 
possess yourself of them as speedily as possible by 
entering into such duties and relations as will enable you 
to overcome an affection which can only be a constant 
source of misery and danger to you throughout your 
life. I am firmly convinced that were you to marry Mr. 
Davenport the time will come when you will be thank- 
ful that you did not sacrifice his happiness and your own 
to a passing passion, the indulgence of which would 
have been a sin.’ 

‘ Listen to me, Aunt Hester ; this is all sophistry. I 
know that it is, and you know it, as well as I do. I have 
only had half-confidences with you, but now I will tell 
you more than I have as yet told you. It is no longer a 
sin for me to love the man whom I do love. His wife 
is dead ; and although I have refused to marry him, I 
consider myself as much belonging to him as if we were 
married/ 

Aunt Hester sat for a few moments as if spellbound. 
At last she said, 

6 If the man is free to marry, why do you refuse to 
marry him ? ’ 

4 It is the penance I have inflicted on myself for 
having loved him when he had a wife. So only could I 
relieve myself from the intense humiliation that followed 
my knowledge of the nature of our affection for each 
other/ 

4 Nonsense ; marry the man, and you will have 
penances enough without going so far out of your way 
to encounter them. You have no right to trifle with his 
happiness, and your own. Who is the man ? * 


812 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


‘I have no objections to telling you now, Aunt 
Hester ; but you must keep my secret as faithfully as 
you have kept your own. You must not even talk to me 
about him, for everything in connection with him is still 
so fresh that it is like touching an open wound.’ 

4 Who is the man ? ’ asked Aunt Hester, again. 

4 Carroll Tracey.’ 

4 Merciful God ! Is it possible you did not know that 
he is dead ? ’ 

4 Dead ! ’ echoed Agatha, and her face grew so white 
and rigid that it looked like a face of stone. 4 Dead ! I 
do not believe it ; ’ but as Aunt Hester noted her stony 
rigidity, her marble whiteness, she knew that a convic- 
tion of the truth had seized hold of Agatha’s heart with 
an iron grasp. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


313 


CHAPTER VI. 

How terrible to Agatha was the night that followed ! 
Not a doubt was left upon her mind, for Aunt Hester 
knew that certainty was less cruel than suspense ; and 
looking up the journal that had announced his death, and 
which spoke of his loss to the literary world, she gave it 
to her to read before they separated for the night. 

All that night the rain fell, dripping, dripping, with a 
dreary monotonous plash on the cold flagstones, and the 
gaunt branches of the weird olive trees swayed and 
moaned in the rising wind ; the sea dashed against the 
rocky coast, and vaporous shadows flitted over its 
broad expanse. All night Agatha sat by her chamber 
window — so benumbed, almost frozen with grief, as it 
were, that not one tear came to her relief. Her heart 
ached with a dull heavy pain, now and then breaking 
into an anguished throb. Morning came, and with the 
first rays of light she threw herself upon her bed, burying 
her face in her pillow, moaning as if her heart would 
break. It seemed as though the sun ought to go out in 
darkness, now that he was gone from earth. Wearied 
and worn out by her night of anguish, she slept at last ; 
and in her sleep she seemed to be floating in immensity, 
in Carroll Tracey’s arms, nothing visible but the blue 
vault of heaven, sprinkled with golden stars, and his face 
bent lovingly over her. 4 Where are we, Carroll ? ’ she 


314 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


asked ‘This is eternity, my darling,’ he answered ; and 
they floated onwards, ever approaching nearer to the 
holy lamps that were glittering above them. How long 
she slept she did not know ; but at last she awakened, 
and almost before she had had time to recall the agony she 
had lived through, her eyes fell upon a letter that her maid, 
entering noiselessly, had left on the bed beside her. She 
took it up. It was Carroll’s seal ! Carroll’s handwriting ! 
There was a sound in her ears as of rushing waters, and 
the bed on which she lay seemed revolving like a wheel 
in the intensity of her emotions. As she held it pressed 
convulsively to her heart, she exclaimed, ‘ Oh ! Carroll, 
Carroll, how cruel I have been to you ! how cruel I have 
been to myself ! Would to God I had given myself to 
you as you wished ; and now it is too late — for ever y too 
late! She broke the seal at last, tears streaming down 
her cheeks ; and as she opened the sheet a scrap of 
newspaper fell out. She picked it up : it was the same 
piece her Aunt Hester had given her to read. What 
could it mean ? Her eager eyes swept the page ; but 
before she had read all, with a cry of joy she exclaimed, 
‘ It is not too late. I am yours, Carroll, for time as well 
as for eternity.’ 

Mrs. Tracey’s death had given rise to the report, and 
occasioned the paragraph that had gone the rounds of 
the New York papers, some eager journalist having in- 
serted it upon hearsay ; and Mr. Tracey, wishing to spare 
Agatha all pain, had written to her as soon as he had seen 
the journal that contained the intelligence. The letter, 
written in America, had been delayed in its transmission 
by being forwarded from one place to another, or it 
would have reached her and saved her that time of 
dreadful suffering. But that night had accomplished 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


315 


what, with her fixedness of purpose, might never other- 
wise have been attained. It had brought her to realise 
the folly of the course which she had contemplated, as 
well as that to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk 
humbly before God, is more than all penances, or sacri- 
fices, or oblations, in His sight. 

Agatha read again and again the long impassioned 
letter, filled with words of tender unwavering trust in 
her, despite all the rumours that had reached him of 
her betrothal ; and before the day ended she had written 
in reply, telling him that, in seeking after more exalted 
duties, she had lost sight of those that lay nearest to 
her ; and how one night of stormy suffering had swept 
away the clouds that obscured her moral vision, and all 
had been made as clear to her as was the brilliant morn- 
ing light that followed the dark hours in which her watch 
of agony had been kept. 

‘ You ask me when you may come to me,’ she wrote. 

• When another year comes around, I shall hope to see 
you. I have been reading “ Callista,” a story of the 
third century, supposed to have been written by Cardinal 
Wiseman, and I must copy a few lines for you, which 
seemed, as I read them, to have come from your pen, so 
exactly do they embody ideas that you have expressed 
to me. But first, let me tell you, I have renounced my 
faith in Platonic affection. I no longer approve of the 
indulgence of any affinities, excepting between those 
who are married or about to marry. It is dreadful for me 
to have to recant, but the voice within that demands it will 
not be stifled. These are the words of Agellius speaking 
to Callista : “ There is between you and me so strange a 
unity of thought that I should have deemed it quite 
impossible before I found it actually to exist, between 


316 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


any two persons whatever, and which to me is inexplic- 
able. There is an unaccountable correspondence in the 
views we take of things, in our impressions, in the line 
in which our minds move, and the issues to which they 
come, in our judgment of what is great and little, and 
the manner in which objects affect our feelings. When 
I speak to others, they do not understand me, nor I 
them ; and I am solitary, however much they talk. But 
to my astonishment I find between you and me one 
language. Is it wonderful that I should fancy that He 
who has made us alike, has made us for each other ? ” 
I too feel that we were made for each other, and I no 
longer deny myself the sweet hope of one day being 
your wife. Your long silence perplexed me not a little ; 
then came that precious sonnet of Mrs. Browning’s in 
your handwriting, followed by a few dear lines of your 
own ; and now, this letter which shows me that you 
were right. We cannot write letters such as an ordinary 
friendship would sanction : we must be all or nothing to 
each other. I detect in your letter traces of the wound 
which I inflicted in giving you no notice of our intended 
departure for Europe ; but in all that has since occurred 
we cannot be sufficiently thankful that you did not 
remain upon this side, as you might have done had 
you known that I was coming abroad. No, everything 
has happened for the best. Now we must wait and trust 
the hand that has led us so far, in order to bring our 
separate ways into one path. I will write as often as 
you wish. The year will pass swiftly ; and when the 
time ot our separation ends, our duties to each other and 
to the dead will have been so fulfilled that no one can 
say we have been wanting in proper respect for either.’ 

Agatha closed her letter, sealed it, and walked with 
it to the post. On her way she was joined by Mr. 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


317 


Davenport, who professed great curiosity concerning the 
letter. A way of escape from the pain of refusing him 
dawned upon her mind. 

4 Will you answer me one question concerning that 
letter ? ’ he said. 

4 I have not the slightest objection to answering any 
that you may ask about the person to whom it is ad- 
dressed, always provided that you will consider my 
answers confidential,’ replied Agatha, suppressing, as well 
as she could, the agitation which this bold avowal caused 
her, and holding the letter so that he could read the 
superscription. 

4 Carroll Tracey ! ’ he exclaimed. 4 The very man I 
was warned against as possessing your heart. Is it pos- 
sible that you have been corresponding with him all this 
time ? ’ 

4 My letters heretofore have only been friendly ones ; 
but I intend to write very often now, as I have promised 
in this letter that some day I will be his wife,’ she replied, 
summoning all her moral courage to her aid, and feeling 
how agreeable it would be if she could retain him as her 
friend by giving him her confidence. 4 But who could 
have warned you against him, pray ?’ 

4 It was as long ago as the Assembly ball, when you 
were in Philadelphia,’ he answered, making brave efforts 
to keep from showing the chagrin that he felt. 4 1 was 
foolish enough to get very angry with my informant. It 
was one of the few occasions in my life when my temper 
got the better of me, and for this reason I remember it.’ 

Mr. Davenport said but little during the remainder of 
his walk, and upon their return to the hotel he informed 
Mr. Lee that business of an imperative nature enforced 
his immediate return to England. 

4 Agatha, you have had something to do with Mr. 


318 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


Davenport’s hurried departure,’ said Mr. Lee, the next 
morning after he had taken leave of them. 

‘ Then he is a very ungrateful man, for I have given 
him such a proof of my regard for his friendship as I 
never gave to anyone before. In order to save him from 
the pain of refusing the offer of marriage which you told 
me he would make, I informed him yesterday that I 
was engaged to be married.’ 

4 Engaged to be married ! ’ exclaimed Mr. Lee, with 
pretty much the same tone of voice and startled look 
in which he would have said, ‘ engaged to be murdered.’ 

‘Yes,’ answered Agatha, ‘ I am engaged at last ; but 
for a year at least it is to be kept a profound secret. 
No one but you, Aunt Hester, and Mr. Davenport, are 
to know of it beside ourselves.’ 

‘ And will you have the kindness to inform me who 
“ ourselves ” includes ? I have not the slightest idea who 
the personage can be, who has not thought me of sufficient 
account to consult in the matter ; and who has so sud- 
denly made you forget your resolution never to marry.’ 

‘ Papa, he would have consulted you, but I told him 
at first that I never would marry him, because — because 

well, it was not because I did not love him enough; 

but there were various reasons, the most weighty of 
which was that he had a wife from whom he was 
di ’ 

‘ What ! ’ exclaimed Mr. Lee, pitching his voice in its 
highest key. ‘Are you going to marry a Mormon ? Who, 
in the name of heaven, is the man ? ’ 

‘Carroll Tracey, papa; he will write and ask your 
consent, and you must not refuse it, for he is the best 
and noblest man I have ever known — the only one whom 
I ever could marry.’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


319 


*1 do not understand how all this came about/ said 
Mr. Lee, looking thoroughly bewildered. 

1 Neither do 1/ answered Agatha. * I did not intend 
to marry him, but when Aunt Hester told me that he 
was dead, I found out what my life would be without 
him ; and when his letter came, the next day, I was able 
to see that the path of our united happiness was also the 
path of my duty. At first, I refused to be his wife 
because I thought it was right for me to refuse. I have 
accepted him now, because I know I am right in so doing; 
and, papa, you must give me your blessing.’ 

‘ I most certainly will give you my blessing, child ; 
but I shall never be able to understand how you could 
refuse Ormus Davenport for such a man as Carroll 
Tracey. Ah, well' ! the boy-god is blind : there’s no 
doubt about it.’ 

‘ “ The heart is a river, and flows where it will,” 
Lamartine tells us,’ rejoined Agatha. 4 But I am sure 
you would rather see me the happiest of women, as 
Carroll Tracey’s wife, than the most wretched of mortals, 
as I would be did I marry any man, even were he a king, 
who did not possess every iota of my heart ; and Carroll 
is a king among men in my eyes. The lesson of Mrs. 
Atherton’s marriage is not one that I wish to learn by 
experience. If ever a woman repented selling herself 
for money, she does. She finds no companionship, no 
sympathy, intellectually or physically, in her husband ; 
I have seen the look of loathing in her eyes when he 
approaches her, for she has one of those highly-strung 
and sensitive nervous organisations that is not capable of 
mere passive indifference. The very thought of being 
chained in such a way, of giving myself as an absolute 
property, without reserve, makes me shudder.’ 


820 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


For a few moments Mr. Lee remained thoughtfully 
silent : then he said, 

‘ After all, you are right, my child ; quite right. Mr. 
Tracey is on this side, I believe ; when is he going to join 
you ? ’ 

‘No, he is still in America; but has written to ask 
when he may come to us. I prefer that he should wait 
until next year. He will then have been divorced two 
years, and it will be a year since Mildred left us ; and 
my own sense of what is right and proper will be satisfied, 
and Mrs. Grundy will have less to say than were he to 
join us now.’ 

‘ Quite right, my dear, quite right ; I agree with you 
entirely. When do Miss Lennox and Colonel Potten 
expect to be married ? * 

‘ On our return to Rome. Everything is arranged ; 
you are to give the bride away ; I am to be first brides- 
maid ; and there is to be a grand wedding breakfast ; and 
then they are to start off for the North Pole, or some 
place in its vicinity, where the midnight sun is to be seen; 
and we are to go to Venice, you know ; and then, if you 
and Aunt Hester are willing, I would like to go by 
Trieste, Vienna, and Warsaw, into Russia.’ 

‘ I am quite ready, and your aunt thinks only of 
your wishes ; so you will have it all your own way, as 
you always do. Where are the Athertons going ? ’ 

‘ They wish to go over the Italian lakes, to Venice 
with us ; then they will return to Verona, and go through 
the Tyrol and the Engadine, I believe. Mrs. Atherton 
made a dreadful speech the other day. I should think 
she must be out of her mind to say anything so wanting 
in refinement. Mr. Jenkins was asking what our plans 
were ; when I told him that we were going to Venice he 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


321 


turned to her, and, lifting his eyebrows, said, “ And where 
ar q you going, Mrs. Atherton ? ” She answered, “I am 
going to the de’il,” using the stronger word, however.’ 

i Hum ! marriage without love must be a hell on 
earth for a woman of great sensibility.’ 

They both had occasion in after days to recall Mrs. 
Atherton’s words. 


V 


322 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


CHAPTER VII. 

The marriage of Colonel Potten and Miss Lennox 
took place at Rome. Mr. Clawson made a speech at 
the wedding breakfast, which Mr. Jenkins declared was* 
made up from Murray’s guide-book for Central Italy, 
and*‘ Roba di Roma ; ’ stating boldly that the only part 
of it that was original was the French phrases with which 
it was interlarded. Within the week that followed the 
departure of the bride and groom, all were on their way 
to their various destinations. 

The summer passed pleasantly but slowly to Agatha ; 
the days seemed endless ; and she often thought of 
Carroll Tracey’s wish that he could go to sleep and not 
waken until the day of their meeting should arrive ; yet 
each day brought some new pleasure in the way of sight- 
seeing, and not a week passed that did not bring her 
letters that were so full of tenderness that she scarcely 
knew whether they did not make her long for him more 
than they helped her to bear his absence. Mr. Lee and 
his sister had particularly wished to stay longer in the 
quaint old city of Moscow, but Agatha had hurried them 
back to St. Petersburg, where she found the letters she 
had expected awaiting them at their banker’s. Never 
had she received a letter from him more precious than 
the one of latest date ; she carried it with her, next to 
her heart, when they took their afternoon drive over 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


823 


the broad grand streets, past buildings superbly magnifi- 
cent, into the green country where the roads were 
bordered with villas, with their endless flower beds, and 
fountains flashing in the sun’s setting rays ; on, on, still 
on, under avenues of trees, to the borders of the sea, 
where the occupants of the carriages alight, pacing the 
sands, or chatting in groups under the broad spreading 
trees. Mr. Lee and Aunt Hester left the carriage, but 
Agatha remained ; she was in no mood for talking. She 
felt borne up, on angel’s wings as it were, into Paradise 
— that paradise of love, which no other can surpass, in 
the rapture that comes to those whose souls are mated 
and interlocked as they walk its streets of pearl and gold 
together. What if, in time, the pearl grows less opales- 
cent, the gold becomes dim ? — it is still gold, it is still 
pearl, and though time may sully, eternity will renew its 
brightness. 

Agatha drew her letter from its hiding-place next to 
her heart, and read the sweet lines, the vaporous golden 
atmosphere intensifying the beauty of sea, earth, and sky, 
while every now and then she glanced around to take it all 
in in full measure, for her spirit was in harmony with all. 
And these were the lines that she dwelt oftenest upon : 

‘ Never were days so long as these ; how can I wait 
through months of such days, then ? Be merciful, my 
darling, and let me come to you sooner. Every morning 
I count the days that remain, every night I go to sleep 
thinking how we will first meet. Have you the dress 
you wore when we parted last, and which I kissed 
when we parted ? I imagine you with that dress on, 
coming to meet me ; and over and over I fancy 
how I will take you in my arms and cover you with 
kisses. I never knew how to wait ; and now I know 


324 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


less than ever. I wish at least autumn were here ; above 
all, I wish that your travels were ended, and that you 
were settled down, where I would not be tortured as I 
am by the fear of some accident happening to you. I 
want you more and more every day. When once you 
are my wife, darling, I will be very exacting ; you must 
always stay where I can see you — so near, that I 
can touch you as I write, to repay me for this cruel 
waiting. I cannot live without you any more. To some 
people the absence of those dear to them is hard to bear 
in the beginning, but time brings them patience. Not 
so with me. I was more resigned a L first, but every 
day increases my impatience and my longing. It is 
useless to try to divert my mind. I try to write more 
than usual, to read as much as possible, to take longer 
rides, even to go a little more into society ; it is all use- 
less. Through everything I am constantly repeating to 
myself, 

The widest land 

Doom takes to part us, leaves my heart in hers — 

and your eyes are following me everywhere. Those dear, 
adored eyes ! how can you have the heart to keep me an 
exile from their tender light ? Were there ever such 
eyes on earth before as yours ? How they haunt me ! 
No; such eyes belong only to heaven, I often fear, and 
what agony lies in the thought ! Do you remember our 
first parting ? How dear we were to each other then, 
and now are we not ten thousand times dearer ? I have 
the photograph of yourself that you sent me, but I dare 
not look at it as often as I would, for it only increases 
my intense longing to hold you to my heart . . . . 

You must be tired to hear always the same things re- 
peated over and over again ; but I cannot help it. Can 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


325 


I change my words when my heart is filled to over- 
flowing with the same thoughts ? It is a necessity 
for me to write to you, even if I do only repeat what 
you know quite as well as I know. It is not for you I 
write as much as it is for myself. Next to seeing you 
is writing to you, and receiving your letters. Would 
that they came to me a little oftener! Never will you 
know what I suffer in this separation.’ 

Letters like these were the angel’s wings that bore 
Agatha up above the earth, and each letter that 
arrived did but make her long for his presence more. 
When they left St. Petersburg they made the passage 
across the Baltic, so enchanting with its numerous 
islands, stopping at the little towns in Finland, 
and reaching Stockholm in a humour to be pleased 
with everything. But here, as everywhere, Agatha’s 
thoughts followed her soul, and nothing that was beauti- 
ful in nature or in art did she see that she did not 
long for Carroll to enjoy it with her. Their daily drives 
lay through grand old evergreen forests, carpeted with 
tufted green moss, and crowded at intervals with rocks 
that were mantled with the same soft, rich, velvety 
verdure.. The park with its extended grounds, the 
largest that Europe boasts, was their favourite resort; 
and where in the world is there in pleasure-grounds a drive 
to equal in its wild beauty that of Queen Christina’s 
way ? Ulricksdal, Drottningholm, Skokloster, Gripsholm 
Castle, at the further end of the beautiful Lake Malar, 
together with many other points of interest, were at last 
visited ; and then they went out of their way to visit the 
picturesque falls of Trollhatten, returning to go into Nor- 
way, where some weeks were passed in various excur- 
sions to its most beautiful fiords, —to the Romsdaler, 


326 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


and over the Dovrefjeld to Drontheim. Then coming 
back to Bergen, they took the steamer down that wild 
coast, so unlike any other, with its lovely fiords girdled 
by rocky ramparts of every conceivable form and variety. 
Arrived at Copenhagen, they passed several days in this 
quaint old city ; and then, by Hamburg and Cologne, 
they kept on their way back to Italy, stopping a few 
days at some of the most interesting places on the route. 
After leaving Cologne, they received no letters until they 
reached Florence. Here, a large package was awaiting 
them, and now they learned of the mysterious disap- 
pearance of Mrs. Atherton in Paris. She had been 
thrown from her horse, in crossing one of the passes in 
Switzerland, and at the time her physician had feared 
some injury to her brain, but she had apparently re- 
covered, and had reached Paris seemingly in good health. 
The very night of her arrival she had told her maid 
that she did not need her services that night, and had 
last been seen by her sitting at her toilet-table in her 
bed-room. Mr. Atherton had retired earlier to his own 
chamber, and did not know until the following morning 
that his wife had not even laid her head upon her pillow. 
All her trunks and her satchels were found untouched ; 
not even her hat nor her mantle were missing. Her 
purse, filled with gold coin, lay upon her dressing-table. 
They could suppose nothing but that she had walked 
out of the house in a state of mental aberration, and 
possibly, as the distressed husband feared, jumped into 
the Seine. Mr. Atherton telegraphed for his relative, 
Mr. Clawson, who was in Switzerland ; and upon his 
arrival no effort was spared to obtain some trace of the 
missing woman — some clue to her whereabouts, if she 
were still living ; for Mr. Clawson stated that upon 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


327 


several occasions she had spoken to him of her intention 
to enter a convent. The secret police were on the alert, 
rewards were offered, the Morgue was visited daily ; but 
weeks rolled away, and no tidings came of Mrs. Atherton. 
Mr. Jenkins had parted from them upon their arrival, 
and left at once for Havre, to sail for America. This 
was the information that one of Agatha’s letters from 
Mrs. Potten contained ; and she, with her aunt and father, 
were lost in their conjectures as to the mystery. Had 
Mrs. Atherton’s mind really been injured by her fall, 
causing her to stray away and lose herself in that Babylon 
of a city ? or had she from sheer weariness of life put 
an end to her existence ? 

‘ After all, Agatha, there is nothing like love to make 
life desirable. I am glad that you insisted upon having 
your own will : you always managed to have it in some 
way. I remember, when you were about as high as this 
table, you used to say, “ I would rather not, if you 
please,” which with you meant, to all intents and pur- 
poses, “ I won’t ! ” ’ 

‘ Is it not much better to have a mind of your own 
than to be turned around by every wind that blows, like 
a weather-vane ? ” asked Agatha. 

‘ Certainly it is ; but what will you do, when you 
have a husband, whose will must be law ? You will have 
to promise to love, honour, and obey, you know.* 

‘ I am going to marry a man whom I trust so im- 
plicitly that I know he never will require any obedience 
from me that I cannot render with my whole heart. I 
do not believe in that love that makes reservations and 
refuses to yield that obedience which both divine and 
human laws require.’ 

Mr. Lee laughed heartily. 


328 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


* All this sounds very heroic ; but just wait until you 
have been married a year or two, and then tell me your 
opinion. It is a great mistake to make the woman 
promise to obey, for it is the man who does all the 
obeying. The weaker sex have a wonderful facility for 
becoming the stronger sex in matrimonial alliances. But 
who are your other letters from ? ’ 

‘There are several from Carroll, and one from Mr. 
J enkins, who wrote just before sailing. How very strange 
that he should have written to me ! ’ 

* What does he say ? * 

‘ He comments upon Mrs. Atherton’s disappearance 
as coolly as if he had not been the devoted cavalier that 
we have seen he was ; he thinks she has been “ queer ” 
for some time, and suggests that she may have entered a 
convent, as she told him she intended to become a 
Roman Catholic. He adds that he hopes to return to 
Europe soon, and may possibly meet us in Italy this 
winter. 

4 And what does Mr. Tracey write ? ’ 

‘ Oh, as usual, he scolds over this long separation ; 
and says a great deal which I like to read, but which you 
would skip if you had the reading of the letters. The 
last was written October ist, almost one month ago, 
and I cannot understand why there are none of later 
date.’ 

Meantime, Aunt Hester, who also received letters, had 
left the room, looking in once to say, ‘ Are you quite sure 
we will remain here through the month of November?’ 

‘ Quite sure,’ replied Mr. Lee, ‘ and not one day longer. 
I remember what December is in Florence, and have no 
wish to pass another such cold month here. Why did 
you ask, Hester ?” 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


329 


‘Only for information,’ she replied, closing the door 
quickly, as though she wished to avoid further question- 
ing. 

When dinner was served, Aunt Hester was not to be 
found. She had apparently disappeared as mysteriously 
as Mrs. Atherton ; but not as alarming a disappearance, 
as her maid had disappeared with her. 

When she joined them at last at the dinner-table, 
looking just the least flushed, Agatha at once asked her 
where she had been, to which question Aunt Hester 
replied that she had been to post an important letter. 

‘ It is plain to be seen that Aunt Hester has an affair 
of her own on hand,’ said Agatha. 

Aunt Hester smiled and looked wise, but said nothing. 

How lovely Florence was in the ripe, rich beauty of 
those autumn days ! Still, Agatha was not as happy as 
she had been, for day followed day, and no letter came 
from Carroll Tracey. What could his silence mean ? 
She grew hourly more and more anxious. One evening, 
when her father had gone to the club, and her aunt, had 
been called from the room, Agatha took her box of letters 
in her lap, and opening one after another, read passages 
here and there, hoping to make the pain at her heart less. 

‘ Reading old letters ? ’ said Aunt Hester, when she 
returned. 

'Yes, for the want of any new ones to read. Aunt 
Hester, do you think he can be on his way ? for I am 
sure he would not allow weeks to pass without writing to 
me if he were not, unless he is ill. I am getting so 
nervous that I do think I will send a telegram if the 
steamer does not bring me a letter this week. What do 
you think, Aunt Hester ? 

' I think you will soon hear from him. I would not 


330 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


be in the least surprised to see him walk in at any mo- 
ment. A man’s patience will not hold out for ever, and 
I daresay he is on his way. But you would be very angry 
with him, and refuse to see him, would you not, if he 
were to come before the year was out ? ’ 

4 Angry with him ? I would be enchanted with him. 
I really did mean a year when I said so ; but there has 
not been one day in these ten that have passed since we 
came here that I have not wished that he would come 
this autumn. If he only would ! ’ 

Aunt Hester, who had remained standing, seemed 
to be watching the door nervously, and just as Agatha 
finished speaking it was opened by Stephano, their 
servant, who brought in a card. 

As Agatha took it from the salver, she said, ‘ I gave 
you orders not to admit anyone/ 

‘ It was my fault/ said Aunt Hester, disappearing 
from the room. 

Agatha never knew what she had said to the servant 
which caused him to return and show the owner of the card 
into their sitting-room, for all was a blank to her from 
the instant in which her eyes fell upon the name to the 
moment in which she felt herself held in a speechless em- 
brace in Carroll Tracey’s arms, their very souls thrilling 
with the rapture of that long clinging kiss. Aunt Hester, 
who had received a letter from him cf later date than those 
Agatha found awaiting her in Florence, had at once 
answered it, to his London address, that he might find it 
there upon landing, and know where to join them. She 
had been called out to see him before his entrance, and had 
returned to prepare the way for him. Now she had the 
good sense to leave them to the enjoyment of such hours 
of bliss as come only to those who, after sacrifices for 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


331 


duty, are at last able to speak heart to heart, and soul 
to soul, without reservation, or fear of violating any of 
the laws of God or man. The fulness, the completeness 
of such love as had drawn them together rarely comes 
to mortals ; but in the immortal world may not all 
hope to be sharers in the wonderful revelations that are 
unfolded even here to those who love as did Agatha and 
Carroll Tracey? — such love as those feel who know what 
it is to live moments in which they ‘ have no need of their 
perishable bodies, the spirits within standing face to face 
with each other, as purely spirit as in the eternal state.' 


J32 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


CONCLUSION. 

The following spring, when the cactus hedges were in 
bloom, and orange-groves gave out their rich draughts of 
sweetness, Agatha and Carroll Tracey were married at 
Naples, and went to Villa Belvidere at Sorrento to stay 
a month before going to Switzerland to join Mr. Lee 
and Aunt Hester. 

‘ If language cannot translate all that is seen and felt 
in the sky, the earth, and the air,’ by the ordinary tra- 
vellers in Italy, what must those glorious, golden days, 
the witching brilliant nights of that enchanting clime, 
have brought to two hearts so sensitive to all impressions 
of beauty as were Agatha’s and her husband’s ? 

The Villa Belvidere stands some distance back from 
the bay, upon an acclivity in the lovely plain of Sorrento, 
surrounded by groves of orange and citron, laden with 
their golden fruit and creamy perfumed blossoms. 
Everywhere vines flourish and flowers bloom, the soft 
grey foliage of the olive tree harmonising with, yet 
toning down, the brighter hues. The branch of the 
Apennines whose hills cradle this charming plain, ter- 
minates at one end in a rocky cliff bordering the sea, 
while the other slopes gently down to the water’s edge. 
Everywhere nature, with prodigal hand, has spread 
scenes of majestic beauty and of picturesque grandeur. 
Rocky mountain gorges stretch upwards to wooded 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


333 


heights, sparkling streams flash downwards to the sea, 
whose surface now flashes like a floor of glass, in dappled 
shades of purple, green, and crimson — now reflects only 
the deep blue vault above, and now soft shades of violet 
and orange blend like streams of liquid gold and ame- 
thysts. In the distance, Ischia and Procida lie wrapped 
in purple vapours ; and nearer, Capri seems to drift like 
an enchanted isle. Vesuvius holds sullenly aloft over 
all her threatening torch, which no one can look upon 
without feeling moved by the terror of its mysterious 
source and fatal power. 

Surrounded by all this indescribable beauty, Carroll 
and Agatha passed the days of their honeymoon. They 
often made excursions in the neighbourhood to Capri’s 
blue grotto, and the ruins of the Villa of Tiberius ; to 
Amalfi’s bewitching shore, and to Salerno’s magnificent 
amphitheatre of hills ; to the desolate but imposing ruins 
of the majestic Greek temples of Paestum ; and to the 
numerous little villages that nestle down, until they 
are all but lost in the brimming foliage of the ‘ piano 
di Sorrente,’ as the natives call their little plain. 

And so these halcyon days glided by, and their last 
evening at Sorrento came. They were sitting in the 
moonlight, on the square terrace (which commands such 
an unsurpassed view that the villa is known by the name 
of ‘ the paradise of Sorrento ’) in a silence more eloquent 
than speech ; yet their inexpressible happiness tempered 
by the sadness that their approaching departure caused, 
from a spot which had enriched their lives with a world 
of intoxicating memories. 

At last Agatha spoke. 

'Carroll, I had the strangest fancy to-day. I am 
almost ashamed to tell you — you will think it such a wild 


334 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


idea ; but you remember our walk in the lemon-grove at 
Massa. While I was waiting for you, when you went in 
with the peasant to buy some of his old coins, I kept on 
beyond the grove, into an open field, where there was a 
fountain with a stone seat beside it, at the end of 
an avenue of trees. I walked on, and sat down. No- 
thing but a vineyard lay between the fountain and a 
clump of ilex trees, where there stood in the shade the 
loveliest little peasant’s cottage ; and while I was sitting 
there I saw a peasant girl — not such a one as we see 
every day around us, but such as are painted in pictures 
— come out with a stone jug in her hand and approach 
the fountain. As she came near I was struck by her 
wonderful resemblance to Sarah Atherton ; but in the 
same instant she saw me, and, turning suddenly, fairly 
flew back to the cottage.’ 

* Well, was there anything remarkable in that, my 
darling ? * 

* Yes, Carroll, it was remarkable ; because the woman 
had the form, the face, the very same brown rippling hair, 
with a golden gleam when the sun struck it, that Mrs. 
Atherton’s has. I was startled at the time by the resem- 
blance, and the more I think of it the more I feel sure 
that it was she.’ 

‘ My darling, you ought to have told me of this 
sooner. We ought not to think of leaving Sorrento 
until we make sure that it was or was not Mrs. Atherton.’ 

‘ Oh no, do not let us turn her pursuers. When I 
think of all she has lost out of life, from not marrying 
one whom she loved — of all that she must have suffered 
in marrying one who was physically repulsive to her, 
I would think we were as cruel as if we were to give a 
hunted fawn into the hands of its pursuers. No, every- 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


335 


one believes she is dead; let them continue to believe so; 
but I shall always think of her and the pretty peasant 
girl as of one and the same person.’ 

4 If you are right, and I would not wonder if you are, 
who could have brought her here ? Everyone comes to 
Sorrento ; it is the last place in the world to hide in.’ 

4 But everyone does not drive to Massa, and get out 
of the carriage to walk through its lemon-groves, and 
explore the country beyond, and sit down to rest by a 
fountain. Of course, if Mrs. Atherton is here, no one 
brought her ; you know how well she speaks Italian.’ 

4 Child ! what a child you are, Agatha ! If it is 
Mrs. Atherton, she is not living in this solitude without 
a lover. And who can he be? Mr. Jenkins, without 
doubt, I should say.’ 

4 Oh no ; he returned home, you know. Don’t you 
lemember that I told you I had received a letter from 
him, and how coolly he speculated upon the mystery of 
her disappearance.’ 

4 Ah, the rascal ! that was a blind, of course. He 
never went to America, my love. No, we will not turn 
detectives, but leave them to enjoy their stolen flowers 
and forbidden fruit as long as they can ; the worm that 
never dies lies in the heart of those flowers, and the 
serpent’s tooth still leaves its traces on such fruit. Ah, 
my darling, not in vain did we struggle through hours of 
passionate longing and dull despair ; not in vain did we 
exercise that self-renunciation which duty required of us ; 
our reward is in this ideal marriage, which unites us with- 
out leaving any memories of sin to corrode our lives.’ 

How fondly Carroll Tracey looked upon the saintly 
face, with its Madonna eyes, that was raised to his own 
in the streaming moonlight. He drew her head down 


336 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


upon his breast, kissing with reverent tenderness the 
eyelids, as they closed in the fulness of her great joy, 
and whispering, 

4 Our marriage, my adored Agatha, is not only for 
time, but for eternity.’ 

The next morning they left Sorrento. Upon their 
arrival in Lucerne they spoke only to Aunt Hester and 
Mr. Lee of Agatha’s adventure. Mr. Clawson, who was 
also at the Schweizerhof, told them that although he 
had no positive proof that Mrs. Atherton was living, he 
had suspicions that she had been aided, if not accom- 
panied, by Mr. Jenkins in her departure. 

4 If it had been a man with any other name than 
Jenkins,’ he said, with his usual frivolity, ‘ I could have 
forgiven the elopement, for such I believe it to have 
been. A man with the name of Jenkins has no excuse 
for being a scoundrel. It is my name, Clawson, that has 
always kept me straight. There’s Frank Mortimer — I 
can’t spoil a story, Mr. Tracey, for relation’s sake — he 
has a name that would plead in his behalf, were he to 
elope. By the way, they say he is going to marry that 
charming little widow, Mrs. Arthur Grey. And Paul 
Howard — and Harold Graham — why, you see fellows 
with such names as those can’t escape with common- 
place lives. If you want a man to have a romantic life, 
give him a romantic name ; commonplace lives and 
commonplace names go together ; that is my theory.’ 

4 What made you think of Paul Howard and Harold 
Graham in this connection ? ’ asked Agatha. 

‘ Why, it was quite natural, I think ; Graham having 
shot himself when he heard of Mrs. Mortimer’s marriage, 

I beg your pardon Mr. Tracey, I had entirely forgotten ; 
I had, indeed ; you must excuse me. Let me see, what 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND . 


337 


was I saying ? oh, that Paul Howard, — of course you 
have heard of his fate ? ’ 

'No/ answered Agatha; 'neither had we heard that 
Mr. Graham was dead.’ 

‘ I am not surprised, for it was kept very still. “ Ac- 
cidentally shot himself,” the newspapers said. I did not 
hear how it was myself until months after.’ 

‘ But what about Paul Howard ? has anything hap- 
pened to him ? ’ 

' I should think you had been residing in the moon, 
or rather at the south pole, inasmuch as the wise men 
say that we know more about the moon here than we do 
about the Antarctic circle. Why, the papers have been 
flooded, for a month now, with all sorts of versions of his 
duel with Matthews, whose wife’s liaison with Howard 
became so public that he challenged him ; and the last 
accounts say that his wound has affected his brain, and 
that his friends have had to remove him to an asylum. 
Well, I believe in the old adage, “ As you make your bed, 
so you must lie upon it.” ’ 

This time, rumour had not exaggerated ; all had 
happened as Mr. Clawson had stated. Before long 
the engagement of Mrs. Grey to Mr. Mortimer was au- 
thentically announced ; but no one had any opportunity 
to feel surprised, as it had so frequently been announced 
before. Everyone agreed that it was a most suitable 
alliance, inasmuch as each had had so many love affairs 
that it could not be supposed that either possessed any 
advantages or disadvantages over the other. 

When Agatha received a letter from her cousin, asking 
her to write to his fiancee , as such, she charitably said, 

' Poor little woman ! After all, Carroll, she was more 
sinned against than sinning. Almost compelled by her 

z 


339 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


father to marry a man whom she felt no affection for, she 
fell in love with Frank ; but I must do her the justice to 
say that with all her flirtations I really believe she never 
loved anyone but him. Is it not strange how often men 
marry the very women who are the farthest removed 
from their ideals ? There is Mr. Marston, who never 
could find a wife good enough for him, taken in at last 
by a widow, whose history, if written, would introduce 
events in the lives of other men than her husband ; and 
now, here is Frank going to be married to the most 
incorrigible flirt of his acquaintance. I hope he is 
marrying her for love, and not for her wealth.’ 

‘ I am not ashamed to own that I married my wife for 
her wealth,’ said Carroll Tracey, looking into Agatha’s 
fond eyes. 

€ How can you say such words, even in jest ? ’ she 
asked. 

6 1 am not in jest — they are the truest words I have 
ever spoken. I married my wife for her wealth of mind 
and soul ; and, more than all, for her wealth of love for 
me — such wealth, that there is not one hour of these 
sweet days in which I do not thank God for 
bestowing such a treasure upon me, begging Him that I 
may grow more worthy of the blessing which I possess — 
that blessing which even Solomon declares to be without 
price — beyond that of gold and rubies — a virtuous wife.’ 

Agatha’s only answer was a kiss that she left upon 
his hair as she stooped ; and happy tears in her eyes that 
made them shine like brown diamonds, when their yellow 
hearts flash back the light She stood, folding back with 
soft caresses the hair she had kissed, and when he drew her 
down, she, looking into his well-like eyes, said, ‘ I see 
only myself, Carroll ; your eyes are so full of me that I 
can see nothing else in them.’ 


ON DANGEROUS GROUND. 


339 


'You see my soul, Agatha ; it is my soul, and not my 
eyes that you are looking into when you see yourself. 
There is no room for any other there, for it is through 
my love for you that I have learned to love the Infinite 
one/ 

His words were music to her ears — far sweeter 
strains than those that floated down to them from the 
old cathedral where the organ’s swelling notes were 
vibrating through the air, and the low chant of vesper 
hymns. 

Agatha’s dream of Platonic love had ended for ever. 
She had found the friend she had longed for — with vague, 
shadowy longing— scarce knowing what she sought ; and 
in finding him she had learned that no one can sustain 
such ideal relations as she had dreamed of sustaining, 
outside of married life, without walking on dangerous 
ground, bordering precipices where one false step would 
plunge them both into an abyss in which no feet walk 
with souls unhaunted by remorseful memories and des- 
pairing thoughts. 


VII. 

NO ALTERNATIVE. By Annie Thomas, authoress of “Dennis Donne,” 
“ 1 He Cometh Not,’ She Said,” etc., etc. 

“‘No Alternative’ is a sweet, good and natural book; exciting sympathy for the faulty, undis- 
ciplined young heroine, who is both the weakest and strongest character presented. . . . The 
trials and tribulations of Harty Carlisle will serve to while away pleasantly, and not unprofitably, a 
warm summer afternoon.” — People's Monthly , Pittsburgh. 

VIII. 

THE VICISSITUDES OF BESSIE FAIRFAX. By Holme Lee, 
authoress of “Sylvan Holt’s Daughter,” “ Kathie Brand,” etc., etc. 

“Of the many novels which Miss Harriet Parr has published, since she first made herself known in 
1865, as ‘ Holme Lee,’ this is one of the best. It is an unpretentious and charming picture of English 
life.” — Morning Post , Boston. 

IX. 

CHASTE AS ICE, PURE AS SNOW. By Mrs. M. C. Despard, 
authoress of “ Wandering Fires.” 

“ In construction of plot, delineation of characterand dramatic movement, it is quite equ*il to many 
of the startling sensational novels of the day. In spirit, style and purpose it is far above them. In a 
certain refinement of thought and subtle analysis of motive, the author has shown herself quite the 
equal of some of the more famous of English female novelists.” — Christian at Work , New York. 


X. 


GENTIANELUA. By Mrs. Randolph. 

“ The novel is intensely interesting, and from the opening chapter to the end of the volume the 
reader is held intent.” — The Traveller , Boston. 

XI. 

KATERFELTO. By G. J. Whytk-Melville, author of “Kate Coventry,” 
“ Holmby House,” “The Three Maries,” “ Digby Grand,” etc. 

“ We are much mistaken if a stirring tale from the pen of Major Whyte-Melville does not meet with 
success. The animation of the story is sustained throughout, and both the time and place are selected 
with a view to picturesque romance.” — London Athenseum. 

XII. 

OLDBURY. By Annie Keary, authoress of “Janet’s Home,” etc. 

“It is a carefully-written and well considered work, characterized by power in its leading inci- 
dents, and by skill and judgment in its conduct and development.” — Boston Gazette . 

v XIII. 

AT CAPRI. A Story of Italian Life. By Carl Detlef, author of “Valen- 
tine, the Countess.” 

“ This author writes with a deeper purpose in mind than mere amusement, and has deservedly won 
a high place among the modern German writers of fiction.” — Saturday Evening Gazette , Boston. 

XIV. 

AFRAJA; or, Life and Love in Norway. From the German of 
Theodore Mugge. Translated by E. Joy Morris, late Minister to Turkey. 
One of the most remarkable romances of this generation.” — Bayard Taylor. 


XV. 

CASTLE DALY. By Annie Keary, authoress of “Oldbury,” “Janet’s 
Home.” 

XVI. 

ON DANGEROUS GROUND; or, Ag-atlia’s Friendship. By 

Mrs. Bloomfield H. Moore. 

PORTER & COATES, Publishers, 

PHILADELPHIA. 































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